Underhive Tales: Rovero and Joliette
by Michael Pumabi
Summary: Pre-Imperial work "Romeo & Juliette" by William Shakespear, reworked by Necromundan playwright Phildeaux Quakespire for performance in Hive Primus, circa M38. A tragic tale of love among rival Guilder families in Hive City.
1. Chapter 1

Historian's Prolog

Originally appearing in the later half of M38, Phildeaux Quakespire's "Rovero and Joliette" was his first play to take place in Hive City and prominently feature the merchant Guild. It is believed that Quakespire had originally planned on using the Spire as the setting for the drama, but the Spire nobility's response to the play "Malgeth" led him to make the change to Veranda. Quakespire received a much warmer response from the Guild after the debut of "Rovero and Joliette." Despite the portrayal of two Guilders as rival families, the Guild itself issued Quakespire a proclamation praising the character of Guilder Prince Engardus.

"Rovero and Joliette" is set in the city-dome of Veranda, which lies in the upper reaches of Hive City. Veranda is well known for it's large windowed balconies, which let in plenty of natural light. These windows also support the extensive gardens, both public and private, that exist in Veranda and other domes and complexes found above the ash clouds on the outer skin of the hive.

"Rovero and Joliette" includes many references to social mores common during M38 that may be lost on modern audiences. The wealthier young men at this time often modified their own clothes to make them more fashionable. This process was known as "cutting" and often involved strategically placed cuts and tears in order to make themselves look tougher or more "down-hive." Another common practice of the wealthy was the bearing of short ornamental swords. However, many of these ornamental blades were actually genuine blades disguised as an accessory to bypass laws on carrying weapons within Hive Primus.

At the time of the drama, the Houses of Hive City were not as separated by enmity as they are in the current millennium. The "Maskers" from Part One were once common at every celebration. By donning elaborate masks, members of other Houses could bypass rivalries and attend parties uninvited. Strong social rules governed the acceptance and behavior of Maskers at festivities. Rovero's friends ignoring the traditional "Entrance Speech" either displays their disdain of the Catalenes or was meant to show that the practice was in decline at this time. Abuses of the practice in late M39 (the assassination of Bern Durg'ga of House Goliath by Delaque posing as Maskers is a prime example) have caused it to vanish from modern society.


	2. Chapter 2

The Prologue

_(Enter the Announcer)_

**Announcer**: Two households of equal rank dwell in beautiful Veranda, where our drama is set. Ancient grudges have given way to new fighting, with fresh blood staining both their hands. From these families are born star-crossed lovers, whose misadventures lead to their tragic deaths, and the end of their families' feud.

The story of their doomed love, and the escalation of their parents' quarrel, which could only end with their deaths, is the subject of our drama.

Part One: The First Bit

_Enter **Stanza** and **Georgie**, two Van Saar gang fighters. In accordance with the laws of Veranda, they are armed only with "ornamental" swords, and wear the colors of the Catalene family. _

**Stanza**: I swear, Georgie, we won't do their dirty work.

**Georgie**: No, or we may as well be slag miners.

**Stanza**: I mean, if they start something, we'll fight.

**Georgie**: Right, but let's not go looking for trouble.

**Stanza**: I'll strike quickly, if they deserve it.

**Georgie**: At least you are not easily provoked.

**Stanza**: Those Murgata dogs always get me going.

**Georgie**: Going means moving, and being valiant means standing firm. If you are going, then you are moving away.

**Stanza**: A dog of that family will move me to stand my ground. I'll not move from the wall for any man or woman from that house!

**Georgie**: That just proves how weak you are, for the weakest always hug the walls for support.

**Stanza**: That is true. Women allow themselves to be backed against walls. I'll show them a real man! I'll shove the Murgata men into the streets, and force their women to the walls.

**Georgie**: But this quarrel is only between the Guilders themselves and us, their fighters.

**Stanza**: It's all the same. I'll make a name for myself! Once I've killed all their men, I'll take all their maids. Well, their heads anyway.

**Georgie**: The heads of the maids?

**Stanza**: Yeah, the heads of the maids. Or their maidenheads. Take it how you will.

**Georgie**: They must take it how they feel it.

**Stanza**: They will feel me for as long as I am able! And I'm well known for my endurance.

**Georgie**: Only among us Van Saar. Draw your sword! Here come two of Murgata's Orlocks.

_(**Altaran** and **Belthar** enter)_

**Stanza**: My naked blade is out. Pick a fight, and I'll back you up.

**Georgie**: How? By turning your back and running?

**Stanza**: Don't worry about me!

**Georgie**: It's me I'm worried about!

**Stanza**: Make sure we have the law on our side. Let them start things.

**Georgie**: I'll glare at them as we pass. They can take it however they want.

**Stanza**: No, as they dare. I'll thumb my nose at them. They'll lose face if they put up with that.

**Altaran**: Did you thumb your nose at us...sir?

**Stanza**: I did thumb my nose...sir.

**Altaran**: Did you thumb your nose at us...sir?

**Stanza**: Is the law on our side if I say yes?

**Georgie**: No.

**Stanza**: No...sir. I didn't thumb my nose at you...sir. But I did thumb my nose.

**Georgie**: Are you looking for trouble? Sir?

**Altaran**: Trouble, sir? No, sir.

**Stanza**: Because if you are...sir...I'm ready for you. I serve a master as good as you.

**Altaran**: No better?

**Stanza**: Wait a sec...

_(Enter Benedan)_

**Georgie**: Say "better". Here comes one of our master's relatives.

**Stanza**: Right. Better...sir!

**Altaran**: You liar!

**Stanza**: Then draw your weapons, if you consider yourself real men. Georgie, remember your slashing attack.

_(They fight)_

**Benedan**: Break it up! You fools don't know what you're doing!

_(Tybelle enters)_

**Tybelle**: What? Are you fighting with our hired guns? Turn, Benedan, and face your death!

**Benedan**: I'm only trying to keep the peace! Sheath your sword, or use it to help me separate these idiots!

**Tybelle**: What? You talk about peace with a drawn sword? I hate the word as much as I hate Hell, all Murgatas, and you! Take this, coward!

_(They fight.)_

_(A group of Citizens and a Judge armed with clubs enter.)_

**Judge**: Use your clubs! Get them! Beat them down!

**Citizens**: Down with the Catalenes! Down with the Murgatas!

_(Guilder Catalene and Lady Catalene enter)_

**Catalene**: What's going on here? You, get me my power sword!

**Lady** **Catalene**: What you need is a crutch! A crutch! Why do you ask for a sword?

**Catalene**: Get me my sword! Murgata is here, provoking me with his drawn sword!

_(Murgata and Lady Murgata enter)_

**Murgata**: You bastard, Catalene! Don't restrain me! Let me go!

**Lady** **Murgata**: You won't take one step towards an enemy!

_(Guilder Prince Engardus enters with a guard of Adeptus Arbites)_

**Engardus**: Rebels! Peace-breakers! Proven guilty by your neighbor's blood upon your weapons! What, are they deaf? You there! You animals! Are you trying to quench your anger with the blood pouring from your own veins? On pain of torture, open your bloody hands and drop those weapons! Listen to my judgment! Three times the peace of our streets has been broken by brawls caused by comments made by either Catalene or Murgata! Even our eldest citizens have taken up weapons as old as they are to take sides in your ancient feud. If you ever disturb these streets again, it will cost you your lives. For now, everyone just go home. You, Catalene, will come with me. You, Murgata, must come to my Guildhall this afternoon to hear my judgment. For the last time, on pain of death, you must disperse!

_(Everyone leaves except Murgata, Lady Murgata, and Benedan)_

**Murgata**: Who started this old quarrel up again? Tell me, nephew, where you here when it began?

**Benedan**: Your enemy's Van Saar were fighting hand-to-hand with our Orlocks before I got here. I drew my weapon to split them up, but at that exact moment, that hothead Tybelle showed up with her weapon already drawn. She swung her sword around, shouting curses at me. Her blade only cut the air, which made fun of her since she couldn't hurt it. While we were fighting, others kept joining in until the prince came and separated everyone.

**Lady Murgata**: Where is Rovero? Have you seen him today? I am glad he was not involved in this altercation.

**Benedan**: Madam, an hour before sunrise, I took a walk to ease my troubled mind. In the gardens on the west side of the dome I saw your son. I walked towards him, but he spotted me and disappeared into the greenery. I figured that he felt as I did, and wanted to be alone. Since I felt that my own company was one person too many, I decided to indulge my own desires by not pursuing him. I gladly ignored him since he ignored me.

**Murgata**: He's been seen there often, watering the gardens with his tears and thickening the air with his heavy sighs. But once the sun rises, he avoids the light by hiding at home. He locks himself in his room, turning out all the lights and creating an artificial night for himself. His mood is black and may lead to disaster, unless some good advice can fix him.

**Benedan**: Noble uncle, do you know the reason for his behavior?

**Murgata**: I don't know, and he will not confide it to me.

**Benedan**: Have you asked him directly about it?

**Murgata**: I have, and so have many others. But he is so withdrawn that he talks with no one but himself. I'm afraid he may wither before he has a chance to truly grow. If only we could figure out why he is so gloomy, I would gladly fix him.

_(Enter **Rovero**)_

**Benedan**: Look, here he comes. If you would step aside, I'll find out what's the matter no matter how much he tries to hide it.

**Murgata**: I hope your efforts reward you with the truth. Come, my lady, let's go home.

_(Murgata and Lady Murgata leave)_

**Benedan**: Good morning, cousin.

**Rovero**: Is the day so new?

**Benedan**: Newly turned nine.

**Rovero**: Oh. Sad hours last even longer. Was that my father who just hurried off?

**Benedan**: It was. But what is this sadness that makes your hours seem so long?

**Rovero**: I don't have the one thing which would make the hours seem too short.

**Benedan**: Are you in love?

**Rovero**: Out...

**Benedan**: Of love?

**Rovero**: Out of favor with the one I love.

**Benedan**: It's too bad that love looks so gentle, but is really just a source of heartache.

**Rovero**: Even though love is blind, it can still see how to work it's mischief. Now where shall we have dinner? What is this? Was there a fight here? Don't tell me, for I'm sure I've heard it all. This has a lot to do with hate, but more with love. Oh fighting love, and loving hate! Something created out of nothing! Like somber joy and serious fun, the perversion of perfection! Feathers of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, and wakeful sleep that isn't what it is! This love I feel that doesn't feel love! Can you do anything but laugh?

**Benedan**: No cousin, I weep.

**Rovero**: What for, my friend?

**Benedan**: For your heartache.

**Rovero**: It is what love does to us. My own grief weighs on my heart, but now you have added yours to it as well. This love you've shown me adds more grief to what is already overflowing in me. Love is a smoke made from the gathering of sighs. When it's purged, it's a twinkle in lovers' eyes. When it's angry, it's a sea made of lovers' tears. What else is it? A hidden madness, a choking bitterness, a preserving sweet. Farewell, cousin.

**Benedan**: Just a moment, I'll go with you. It's wrong for you to just leave me like this.

**Rovero**: Huh. I'm not myself. I'm not here. This isn't Rovero, he's somewhere else.

**Benedan**: Tell me in sadness who you love.

**Rovero**: What, do you want me to moan it to you?

**Benedan**: Moan it? Well, no, but sadly tell me her name.

**Rovero**: Would you ask a dying man to make his will in despair? Bad advice to someone who is so ill. In sadness, cousin, I'm in love with a woman.

**Benedan**: I sort of spotted that when you said you were in love.

**Rovero**: A good eye, then! And the one I love is beautiful.

**Benedan**: An eye-catching target is soonest hit.

**Rovero**: Well, you missed that time. She's not such an easy mark. She's wise beyond reason, and so protected by her virtue that no one can scratch her armor. She's immune to sweet talk, invulnerable to loving looks, and incorruptible by the mounds of gold it would take to seduce a saint. She is rich in beauty, and only poor because when she dies, her beauty will die with her.

**Benedan**: She has sworn to never get married?

**Rovero**: She has, and by saving herself like that she makes a huge waste. By starving herself of love, she cuts her beauty off from further generations. She is too fair, too wise, and it's unfair for her to achieve bliss by making me despair. She has forsworn love, and because of that I live like the dead, existing only to tell the story.

**Benedan**: Listen to me, forget to think about her.

**Rovero**: Can you teach me how to forget to think about her?

**Benedan**: Let your eyes wander. Look at all the other beautiful girls.

**Rovero**: That would only make her more beautiful. The veils the noble ladies wear make us dream of the beauty that hides underneath. A blinded man can never forget the value of his lost vision. Go ahead, show me a beautiful lady. What good is her beauty, except to remind me of the one who is loveliest of all? Goodbye. You cannot teach me to forget.

**Benedan**: I will, or I'll die trying!

_(They both leave)_

Part One – The Second Bit

_(A street in Veranda. Catalene, Count Spira, and one of Catalene's servants enter)_

**Catalene**: But Murgata's hands are tied as well as mine, and with the same penalties. It shouldn't be hard, I think, for two men as old as us to keep the peace.

**Spira**: You both have honorable reputations, and it's a pity you have hated each other for so long. But I would rather discuss my request to marry your daughter.

**Catalene**: I'm just going to repeat myself. My child is too young. She's not even fourteen. Give her two more years, and she'll be ready for marriage.

**Spira**: Girls younger than her have been turned into happy mothers.

**Catalene**: There are no happy marriages that are made so early. She is the last of my children, and all my hopes for the future rest with her. You may pursue her, gentle man, and win her heart. Her feelings are more important than my consent. If she agrees, her choice will give my consent. Tonight I'm holding a party in the old traditions. I have invited many of my closest friends, and you would be a welcome addition. At my humble home, you will see heavenly beauties that dim the very stars. It is the start of the festive season, and after such a long dry spell, all the fresh young beauties will be out in force. Look at them, listen to them, and find the one who has the most to offer. It may be that after seeing so many, my daughter may still be your number one. Let us continue on.

_(**Catalene** hands the **Servant** a dataslate)_

Search through Veranda and find the persons listed on this. Tell them I and my house await the pleasure of their company.

_(Catalene and Spira leave)_

**Servant**: Find the people who's names are written on here? It's written that the gunsmith should forge swords, the weapon smith should align sights, the musician uses his paintbrush, and the artist tunes his strings. And so I am sent to find the persons listed on this, but I cannot read the names the lister has listed! I'll have to ask someone who knows how to read. Good timing!

_(**Benedan** and **Rovero** enter)_

**Benedan**: Oh, come on! One fire can burn out another. If your hand hurts, dropping a weight on your foot will make it stop. If you spin until you're dizzy, spin backwards to stop it. One grief is lessened by adding a new sorrow. Discover a new beauty, and the torment of the old one will vanish.

**Rovero**: A plantain leaf is good for that.

**Benedan**: Good for what?

**Rovero**: For your broken shin.

**Benedan**: What? Have you gone mad, Rovero?

**Rovero**: I'm not mad, but I'm restrained more than a madman is; locked in a prison, deprived of food, whipped and tormented and...Good evening good sir.

**Servant**: Good evening to you. May I ask, can you read?

**Rovero**: Yes, my future in my misery.

**Servant**: Maybe you learned that by listening to your heart. But, please, can you read what is written?

**Rovero**: Yes, as long as I know the letters and the language.

**Servant**: You speak truly. Have a good day.

**Rovero**: Hold on, I can read. _(He reads the list)_

Guilder Marzino and his wife and daughters;

Councilman Anshelm and his beautiful sisters;

Widow Utruphio;

Guilder Plagenshio and his lovely nieces;

Mercatian and his brother Volentein;

My Aunt Catalene, her husband and daughters;

My fair niece Rosalene and Vivica;

Lady Venaltia and her cousin Tybelle;

Lucielle and the lovely Havana.

A promising guest list! Where are they going?

**Servant**: Up.

**Rovero**: Where? For supper?

**Servant**: To our house.

**Rovero**: Whose house?

**Servant**: My master's.

**Rovero**: I guess I should have asked you that in the first place.

**Servant**: I'll tell you without asking. My master is the great, rich Guilder Catalene, and so long as you are not sided with Guilder Murgata, please come and enjoy some drinks. Good bye now!

_(**Servant** leaves)_

**Benedan**: This Rosalene that you love so much will be at this party, along with all the beauties of Veranda. You should go, and, with an unprejudiced eye, compare her to the others I'll introduce you to. I'll prove your beauty is actually no more than a scavvy!

**Rovero**: If my eyes should prove so unfaithful, let me cry tears of fire. Like the wytches who pass the test of water and are then burnt as heretics. Someone more beautiful than my love! The sun has never shone upon her equal since this world was founded.

**Benedan**: Bah! You thought she was beautiful because you had no one to compare her too. She was only competing against herself in your eyes. But use those eyes to compare this lady love against the other beautiful girls that will be at this party, and you'll see she is clearly not the best.

**Rovero**: I'll go, but not to see what you would show me. I'll enjoy the sight of my own vision.

_(They leave)_

Part One – The Third Bit

_(Inside Guilder Catalene's house. **Lady Catalene** and **Nurse** enter.)_

**Lady Catalene**: Nurse, where's my daughter? Bring her to me.

**Nurse**: By the virginity I lost at twelve years old, I told her to be here. Hey, little one! Hey, chicky! Emperor forbid something has happened to her. Where is she? Joliette!

_(**Joliette** enters)_

**Joliette**: What's the matter? Who's calling me?

**Nurse**: Your mother.

**Joliette**: I'm here, mother. What do you want?

**Lady Catalene**: Just this. Nurse, leave us a moment. I want to talk to her in private. No, wait Nurse. I've changed my mind, you should hear this. You know my daughter is of an attractive age.

**Nurse**: Of course. I can tell her age to the very hour.

**Lady Catalene**: She's not yet fourteen...

**Nurse**: I'd bet fourteen of my teeth, but unfortunately I only have four left. She's not fourteen yet. How long until Celestine Day?

**Lady** **Catalene**: Two weeks and a few odd days.

**Nurse**: Even or odd doesn't matter. On Celestine Day she'll turn fourteen. She and Suzanne, Emperor keep her, were the same age. Well, Suzanne was too good for me, and sits with the Emperor now. But like I said, on Celestine Day she'll turn fourteen. Yes she will. Oh, I remember it well. It's been eleven years since that big hive-quake and she was weaned. I shall never forget it, it was such a coincidence that it happened on that very day. I'd just put some bitterpaste on my nipples as I sat by the birdhouse wall. The guilder and yourself were in Downtwo-A Towers at the time, what a good memory I have! But like I was saying, when she got a taste of that bitterpaste, the pretty little thing, she got so angry she wanted nothing to do with my breast. And the whole birdhouse started to shake, like it was sharing her anger with me! That was eleven years ago. She was able to stand by herself then. Actually, she could run and toddle around. The day before that, she had cut her head and my husband; Emperor keep him, for he was a happy man; he lifted her up and asked her "Did you fall on your face? When you've grown up, you'll land on your back instead, won't you Jolly?" And by all that's holy, the pretty girl stopped crying at once and said "Yes." It's funny how a joke should turn out true! I swear if I live a thousand years, I'll never forget it. "Won't you, Jolly?" he said, and she just stopped crying and said "Yes."

**Lady Catalene**: That's enough of that. Be quiet, now.

**Nurse**: Of course. But I can't stop laughing when I remember how she stopped crying and said "Yes". I swear, she had a huge bump popping out of her forehead, it looked very nasty, and she cried quite a bit. "Did you fall on your face?" he asked. "When you've grown up, you'll land on your back instead, won't you, Jolly?" And she stopped crying and said "Yes".

**Joliette**: I wish you'd stop too, Nurse. Please!

**Nurse**: Right, I'm done now. Emperor watch over you, you were the prettiest child that I ever nursed. If I could just see you married, I'd have my wish.

**Lady Catalene**: And that is the very thing I came to talk to you about. Tell me, my daughter, how do you feel about getting married?

**Joliette**: It's an honor I don't dream about.

**Nurse**: An honor! If I wasn't your only nurse, I'd say you drank wisdom from the breast.

**Lady Catalene**: Well, think about it now. Things are different here in Veranda, and many high born ladies younger than you are already married and mothers. I had you at a very similar age. But I'll be brief: Count Spira seeks you as his bride.

**Nurse**: You know, as men go, he's a pretty good catch. Worlds better than most of the ones back home.

**Lady Catalene**: There's no one like him here in Veranda.

**Nurse**: In faith, he seems to be a right fine catch.

**Lady Catalene**: What do you think? Can you love this gentleman? You'll see him tonight at our party. Scan his face like it was a book, and see if you like the way he was written. Examine every part and see how they come together. If something looks amiss, check his eyes for an explanation. This great love story, this loose romance, only lacks a cover to bind it all together. The stars burn in the heavens, and so a beautiful woman contains a worthy man. When this book is shared, it's worth grows by the number of eyes that read it. And so by marrying him, you will contain all that he possesses, and your own attributes will be no less.

**Nurse**: No less? They'll be bigger! Women grow when pregnant!

**Lady Catalene**: A brief answer then, do you like the idea of Spira's love?

**Joliette**: I'll look to see if I like, if looking can lead to liking. But I cannot commit to any more than that.

_(A **Servant** enters)_

**Servant**: Madam, the guests have arrived. Dinner has been served, and the guests are looking for you and the young lady. The kitchen is cursing the Nurse, and everything is in confusion! I must return to help serve the guests. Please come quickly!

_(The **Servant** leaves)_

**Lady Catalene**: I guess we should go down. Joliette, the Count is waiting for you.

**Nurse**: Go, girl, and seek happy nights to make happy days.

_(They all leave)_

Part One – The Fourth Bit

_A street near Guilder Catalene's home. **Rovero**, **Mercatian**, **Benedan** and several other men enter. All are carrying elaborate party masks and some are bearing ornate lanterns. Rovero is reading a printout._

**Rovero**: Is this the speech we will use to introduce ourselves, or will we just join in without an apology?

**Benedan**: Introductions like that are so old fashioned. Lets skip the blind escort waving around a fake sword. That just scares the ladies. And no poorly memorized speeches delivered with a soft voice and help from a prompter as we make our entrance. Let them take us as they will. We'll just have us a dance and then go.

**Rovero**: Let me carry one of the lanterns. I'm not in the mood for this. I'll carry the light, since my heart is so heavy.

**Mercatian**: Oh no, Rovero. You need to dance.

**Rovero**: Not I, believe me. You have dancing shoes with light soles. My soul is heavy as lead, and pins me to the ground so that I can barely move.

**Mercatian**: You are a lover! You should have wings of love and rise above the ground!

**Rovero**: I have been too wounded by love to fly with those flimsy wings. I've sunk so low, I can't jump higher than the depths of despair. Love's weight has crushed me down.

**Mercatian**: It crushes you because you carry it like a burden. It's too great a weight for someone as sensitive as you.

**Rovero**: Is love sensitive? It's too rough, too cruel, too aggressive. It cuts like a knife.

**Mercatian**: If love is too rough with you, you need to be rough back. If it cuts you, cut it back, and it'll soon give in! You, trade masks with me. I need an ugly mask to cover my ugly face. I don't care if anyone notices my real face. Ah, these red cheeks will do my blushing for me!

**Benedan**: Masks on. Let's knock and head on in. Once we're inside, everyone start dancing right away.

**Rovero**: I'll just carry a lantern. I'll leave the dancing to those with lighter hearts. I'm like the old saying "He who watches sees the most." The party is at it's height, but I'm already done.

**Mercatian**: Pah! Dun's the color of a mouse. If you are done, we'll pull you from the mire of -now don't object- love, because you're stick in it up to your ears. Let's go, we're burning daylight.

**Rovero**: No, that's not right!

**Mercatian**: I only mean that we're wasting the power in our lanterns, as if we had lit them during the day. Don't hunt for hidden meanings. Most often the obvious one is the right one.

**Rovero**: I mean well in coming here, but I don't think it's wise to go in.

**Mercatian**: Why not, if I may ask?

**Rovero**: I had a dream last night.

**Mercatian**: And so did I.

**Rovero**: Well, what was yours?

**Mercatian**: That dreamers often lie.

**Rovero**: Asleep in beds, where they dream things that are true.

**Mercatian**: I guess one of those Ratskin "hive spirits" has been visiting you! One who brings men's fantasies to life. She's a tiny little thing, no bigger than a gemstone worn by a councilman. A group of tiny creatures pulls her wagon across the noses of men as they sleep. Her coach is made from an empty ammo clip converted by skilled rats – as everyone knows, they make all the hive spirits' stuff. The spokes of the wheels are made of spider legs, the canopy of dustbat wings, and the harnesses of the finest spider's web. The creatures wear collars of ash-cloud, and she bears a whip made of plastic bones and optic fiber. Her driver is a tiny black fly no bigger than the eye of a needle. And in this coach she travels, night after night, through the dreams of men. If she passes through a lover's brain, they dream of love. Over the knees of nobles, and they immediately dream of respectful bows. Passing over the fingers of lawyers, they dream straightway of fees. Over ladies lips, and they dream of kisses. Although the angry little spirit will often curse them with blisters because their breath is tainted with sweets. Sometimes she'll pass over an explorer's nose, and he will immediately believe he can smell out lost archeotech. Sometimes she takes a credit given in tithe to the clergy, and uses it to tickle a minister's nose, causing him to dream of larger cathedrals. Sometimes she passes over the throat of a guardsman, causing him to dream of cutting enemies' throats, and victories, and ambushes, and drinking bouts, and clashing swords. Then she drums in his ear and scares him awake, so that he must say a prayer or two before going back to sleep. This is the same creature who ties beards in knots and mats the hair of gutter children. This is the monster, who teaches women to lie on their backs and then turns them into mothers, making them "women of good carriage." This is the same...

**Rovero**: Enough already Mercatian! You are spouting a bunch of nonsense.

**Mercatian**: True. I'm only talking about dreams, which are created by lazy minds. They're made of nothing but fantasy, are as insubstantial as air, and completely unpredictable. One second they're pleasant, and the next a nightmare.

**Benedan**: Well your fantasy has screwed up our plans. Dinner will be over soon, and we'll be too late.

**Rovero**: I'm afraid we'll be too early. I feel like something terrible will happen at tonight's party, which will ultimately lead me to an early grave. But the Emperor will guide me. Let's go, rowdy friends.

**Benedan**: Strike the drum!

_(They all leave together)_

Part One – The Fifth Bit

_The party inside Catalene's house. Rovero and the others join in. Two Servants enter carrying napkins._

**First Servan**t: Where's Panpan? He should be clearing this all away! Like you'll ever actually see him moving a dish or scraping a plate!

**Second Servant**: It's a sad thing when good manners are only found in the unwashed hands of one or two men.

**First Servant**: Clear the stools. Remove that side-board. Careful with the plates! Please make sure to save me a slice of the desert. Do me a favor, and ask the doorman to let in Suha Grindstone and Gnell.

_(The Second Servant leaves. **Artnie** and **Panpan** enter.)_

Artnie and Panpan!

**Artnie**: Here lad! Ready!

**First Servant**: They're looking for and calling for you, asking for and searching for you in the great chamber!

**Panpan**: We can't be here and there at the same time! Cheer up, lads! Enjoy yourself, and he who lives longest wins!

_(The Servants leave)_

_(Guilder **Catalene**, **Lady** **Catalene**, **Joliette**, **Tybelle**, and **Nurse** enter with their invited guests.)_

**Catalene**: Welcome, Maskers! Any ladies not suffering from corns will join you in a dance! Come now, ladies! Which of you will refuse to dance? Whoever looks shy, I'll announce she has corns! Am I near the truth? Welcome, gentleman! There was once a time when I wore a mask, and would whisper tales into the ears of beautiful girls. But that time is over..all over... But you are welcome, gentlemen. Musicians, play us something! This is a big hall, make some room! Dance, ladies!

_(The music and dancing begins)_

More lights, clods! Get rid of those tables! Turn up the conditioners, the room is getting too hot. Ah, it's a proper party now that Maskers have arrived. No no, have a seat cousin Catalene. You and I are past our dancing days. How long has it been since we last wore Masks?

**Cousin**: By the Throne, it's been at least thirty years.

**Catalene**: Are you sure? It can't have been that long. It was at Lucrenza's wedding. Only twenty-five years ago. We masked then.

**Cousin**: It's more. It's more. His son is older than that. His son is thirty.

**Catalene**: Do you expect me to believe that? His son was still a child just two years ago.

**Rovero**: Excuse me, but who is the lady dancing with that man over there?

**Servant**: I don't know, sir.

**Rovero**: This lantern looks dim beside her. It seems like she glitters in the night like a jewel laid on black velvet. Beauty too precious to use, too good for this world. She shines brighter than the other ladies, like a beacon among candles. Once this dance is finished, I'll see where she stands and make my rough hands blessed by touching hers. Did my heart know love until now? Deny all other visions, for I have never seen true beauty until this night.

**Tybelle**: Judging by his voice, this must be one of Murgata's men. You, girl, get my rapier. How dare this bastard come here, hiding behind a leering mask, to jeer and make fun of our party. Now by my ancestors and the honor of my House, it will be no sin to strike him dead!

**Catalene**: Hello there, kinswoman. Why do you look so angry?

**Tybelle**: Uncle, that is a Murgata, one of our enemies. He's obviously come here to mock our celebration tonight!

**Catalene**: That's young Rovero, isn't it?

**Tybelle**: That's him! That bastard, Rovero!

**Catalene**: Calm down, good niece, and leave him alone. He's behaving very politely. And, to tell the truth, most of Veranda speaks well of him as a virtuous and well-spoken young man. I would not, for all the wealth in the city, insult him here in my home. So be patient. Ignore him. This is my decision. If you respect me, behave yourself. Be friendly and stop frowning. That's no way to behave at a party.

**Tybelle**: It's the only way to behave with such a villain as a guest! I won't tolerate him!

**Catalene**: He will be tolerated! Who do you think you are? I say he will! Who is the master here? Me or you? "I won't tolerate him!" Emperor take me, you'll start a riot among my guests? You'll show him who's top dog? You're in charge here, are you?

**Tybelle**: But, uncle, it's shameful!

**Catalene**: Oh! It is, is it? You're a rude girl! It's shameful, you say? This action will lead to no good, mark my words. You'll have to go against me. Is that the time – Well done, dear friends! - You are a too full of yourself! For shame! Now be quiet, or – More lights! More lights! - or I'll make you be quiet. Oh, well done my friends!

**Tybelle**: Forcing myself to be patient when I'm so angry sets my nerves on fire. I'll go, but this intrusion, which may seem so sweet and innocent now, will surely turn sour.

_(Tybelle leaves)_

**Rovero**: If my unworthy hand should taint this holy shrine, then my lips, like two blushing pilgrims, stand ready with a tender kiss, to smooth away the roughness of my touch.

**Joliette**: Good pilgrim, you wrong your hand too much. It is only showing it's devotion. Statues of saints have hands that pilgrims touch, so palm to palm is a pious pilgrim's kiss.

**Rovero**: Don't saints have lips, and pious pilgrims too?

**Joliette**: Oh yes, pilgrim. Lips that must be used for prayer.

**Rovero**: Well then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. Mine are praying. Grant their prayer, so that faith may not turn to despair.

**Joliette**: Saints do not move, though they do grant prayers.

**Rovero**: Then stay still, while I have my prayer granted. _(Kiss)_ And so my sins are purged from my lips by yours.

**Joliette**: Then my lips have the sin they have taken.

**Rovero**: Taken on my sin? Ah, the sweet lure of sin. Return my sin to me. _(Kiss again)_

**Joliette**: You kiss very formally.

**Nurse**: Madam, your father would like a word with you.

_(Joliette moves to a different part of the party)_

**Rovero**: And who is her father?

**Nurse**: Indeed, young man, her father is the man of the house. He's good, wise, and honorable for a man. I myself nursed the young lady you were just talking to. I can tell you, whoever wins her hand will be set for life.

**Rovero**: She is a Catalene? Throne above! My life is in debt to my enemy!

**Benedan**: It's time to go. The best part of this party has past.

**Rovero**: I fear it has, much to my sorrow.

**Catalene**: No, good maskers, don't go yet! We're just about to serve some deserts. Oh, you must go? Well then, my thanks to you all. Thank you gentlemen. Good night! More lanterns! I believe it's nearly time for bed. Is that the time? It's getting late. I'm off to bed.

_(Everyone begins to leave except **Joliette** and **Nurse**)_

**Joliette**: Nurse, come here! Who's that gentleman over there?

**Nurse**: Tiberio's son and heir.

**Joliette**: And who's that just leaving?

**Nurse**: I believe that's young Petruchio.

**Joliette**: And who's that there, behind the others? The one who wouldn't dance?

**Nurse**: I don't know.

**Joliette**: Go ask his name. If he's already married, my grave will be my only wedding bed.

**Nurse**: He's name is Rovero, and he's a Murgata. The only son of your sworn enemy.

**Joliette**: The one I love is the son of the one I hate! When I first met him, I didn't recognize him. And now that I know who he is, it's too late! Why should first love for me be with a hated enemy?

**Nurse**: What's this? What did you say?

**Joliette**: Just something I heard from someone I danced with.

_(Joliette's father calls "Joliette" from off stage)_

**Nurse**: Let's go inside. All the guests have already left.

_(They leave)_


	3. Chapter 3

Part 2 – The Prologue

_(Enter the Announcer)_

**Announcer**: The old love is dead, and a new love struggles to take it's place. The lovely maiden, once so desirable and worth dying for, has been compared with Joliette, and found wanting. Now Rovero is loved, and loves once again. Both are enchanted by the magic spell of stolen glances, but he must now dare to court a sworn enemy, while she must steal her love from the fearsome jaws of traps. Since he is a foe, he cannot see her to swear the usual lover's vows. And she, just as much in love, has even fewer opportunities to meet her new love. But desire gives them motive, and time provides the means for them to meet. And their difficulties make the meetings so much sweeter.

Part 2 – The First Bit

_A street by the wall bordering Catalene's house gardens. **Rovero** enters._

**Rovero**: Can I keep heading home, when my heart is here? I must go back, since I am only human, and find the center of my universe.

_(**Benedan** and **Mercatian** enter as Rovero climbs the garden wall)_

**Benedan**: Rovero? Cousin Rovero? Rovero?

**Mercatian**: He's got good sense. I'm sure he's gone home to bed.

**Benedan**: He came this way, and most likely climbed over this garden wall. Call him, Mercatian.

**Mercatian**: No, I'll summon him by magic. Rovero! Gloomy-gus! Madman! Romantic! Lover! Appear in the form of a lover's sighs! Speak in poetry so I'll know it's you. Cry out "Ah, me!" or rhyme "love" and "dove"! Speak kind words about the patron of love and give her son, the hive-spirit Qufus, the one who made Noble Cophe Ko'Iron fall for a hiver girl, a nickname! I don't think he hears me. He doesn't appear or answer. The fool must be dead, and I'll have to conjure him up. I summon you with Rosalene's bright eyes, her lofty forehead and her ruby lips! By her dainty feet, shapely legs and quivering thighs, and the wonders that dwell between, I command you to appear before us!

**Benedan**: If he can hear you, he'll be so angry.

**Mercatian**: This won't anger him. He'd be mad if I summoned up some spirit and sent it to his loved one, and let it pester her until she had it exorcised. That would be cruel. My "spell" is fair and honest, I only use his loved one's name to call up spirits to save him.

**Benedan**: Let's go. He doesn't want to be found. That dark garden fits his mood. His love is blind, and is best left in the dark.

**Mercatian**: If love is blind, it'll never find what it seeks. Now Rovero will sit alone in the garden, wishing his love were a fruit he could pluck and keep. Poor Rovero, if only she was! Then she'd be yours to eat. Good night, Rovero. I'm off to my bed, for this street is too cold and hard to sleep on. Come on, let's go.

**Benedan**: Indeed. It's pointless searching for someone so determined not to be found.

_(They leave)_

Part Two – The Second Bit

_Inside Catalene's garden. **Rovero** enters._

**Rovero**: He's making fun of me, but he's never felt like this.

_(Joliette enters through an upper window)_

But wait! What light is shining through that window? It's a skylight, and Joliette is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and slay the darkness. It is cold and filled with grief, since you are far lovelier than it will ever be. Don't be it's servant, for it is envious and wears only black like a mourner. Toss it aside! It is my lady! It is my love! If only she knew she was! Her lips move, but she says nothing. It doesn't matter. Her eyes speak for her, and I'll answer them. But I am mistaken. She's not speaking to me. Two stars have asked her eyes to take their place in the sky while they are taking care of business somewhere else. What if her eyes were there, and the stars were in her head? The glow of her cheeks would shame the stars the way the sun puts lanterns to shame. Her eyes in the heavens would shine so bright that everyone would think it was daytime. See how she rests her cheek upon her hand? If only I were a glove on that hand, so I could touch her cheek!

**Joliette**: Oh, dear!

**Rovero**: She speaks! Speak again, my angel! You are above me, and glorious in the night, awe-inspiring as the Emperor's Astartes to mortal eyes when they descend from the heavens in their chariots of fire.

**Joliette**: Oh Rovero, Rovero, why are you Rovero? Deny your father and give up your name! I'll no longer be a Catalene!

**Rovero**: Should I listen some more, or speak up now?

**Joliette**: It's only your name that is my enemy. You are you, not a Murgata. And what is "Murgata"? It's not a hand or foot, not an arm or face or any other part of a human. Please be another name. What's in a name? What we call a flower would still smell sweet with another name. And Rovero, with a different name, would still be perfect by his own accord. Rovero, give up your name, which is not a part of you, and take all of me!

**Rovero**: I'll take you at your word. Call me love, and I'll have a new life. From now on, I will no longer be Rovero.

**Joliette**: What kind of man are you, who hides in the darkness and listens to my private thoughts?

**Rovero**: I do not know how to tell you who I am with a name. I hate my name, dear angel, because it is an enemy of yours. If it were written down, I would shred it.

**Joliette**: I haven't heard you speak a hundred words, but I know your voice. Aren't you Rovero, and a Murgata?

**Rovero**: Neither, fair lady, if you dislike them.

**Joliette**: Tell me, how did you get in here, and why did you come? The garden walls are high and difficult to climb. And considering who you are, this place is death if any of my family should find you here.

**Rovero**: With love's wings I crossed these walls, for not even plasteel can keep love out. And love will dare to do what love can do. And so your family cannot stop me.

**Joliette**: If they see you, they will murder you.

**Rovero**: Alas, there is more danger in your eyes than in twenty of their weapons. Give me a tender look, and I am invulnerable to their hatred.

**Joliette**: I would give the world if they do not see you here.

**Rovero**: I am hidden from them in the darkness. And as long as you love me, then they can find me here. I would rather die from their hatred than live a long life without your love.

**Joliette**: Who told you how to find this place?

**Rovero**: Blind love did, which first prompted me to ask. He gave me his advice, and I loaned him my eyes. I am no navigator, but even if your were at the farthest reaches of the galaxy, I would still set out to search for a treasure like you.

**Joliette**: It's a good thing the darkness conceals my face, or you'd see a vivid blush because of what you've heard me say tonight. I will not dwell on proper forms or deny what I have said. Farewell etiquette! Do you love me? I know you will say "yes", and I'll believe you. But, if you swear, you may take it back. At lover's lies, they say, the Emperor laughs Oh, gentle Rovero, if you do love me, say it in good faith. Or, if you think you've won me too easily, I'll frown and resist and tell you no, so that you will keep pursuing me. Otherwise, I wouldn't do it for all the world. In truth, dear Murgata, I am too in love, and so you may think my behavior is improper. But trust me, sir, that I will be more faithful than those who only pretend to be hard to get. I should be more of a challenge, I admit, but you have heard what I was saying before I knew you were there, and heard my love's true feelings. And so forgive me; do not think this quick surrender is a false love, discovered in the dark of night.

**Rovero**: Lady, I swear by the moons above...

**Joliette**: Oh, do not swear by the moons, who keep changing as the weeks progress. I would not have a love so fickle...

**Rovero**: What should I swear by?

**Joliette**: Do not swear at all. Or, if you must, swear by your self, which is the heart of my love, and I'll believe you.

**Rovero**: If my love...

**Joliette**: Please don't swear! Although you make me happy, I find no joy from tonight's vows. It is too rash, too reckless, too sudden, too much like lightening, over and done in a flash. Good night, my sweet. This bud of our love may well have blossomed when we meet again. Good night, good night again. May you sleep as soundly and have dreams as sweet as I will tonight.

**Rovero**: And would you leave me so unsatisfied?

**Joliette**: What satisfaction could you have tonight?

**Rovero**: The exchange of our love's faithful vows.

**Joliette**: You had mine before you asked for it. But I wish I had it to give to you again.

**Rovero**: You'd like it back? What would you do with it, my love?

**Joliette**: Be honest and give it to you again. But I'm asking for what I already have. My gifts are as boundless as the heavens, and my love as vast. The more I give to you, the more I have, for both are infinite. I hear something inside. Goodbye, my love.

_(**Nurse** calls within the house)_

One second, good Nurse! Sweet Murgata, be true. Wait for a second, and I will come back.

_(**Joliette** leaves)_

**Rovero**: Blessed night! But I am afraid that since this is night, this will turn out to be a dream, too wonderful to be true.

_(**Joliette** returns to her window)_

**Joliette**: Just a few more words, dear Rovero, and then it really must be goodnight. If your intentions are honorable, and what you're seeking is marriage, let me know tomorrow by a messenger I will send to you. Tell me when and where we will have the ceremony. All my life will be yours, and I will follow you throughout this world.

**Nurse**: _(inside)_ Joliette!

**Joliette**: I'm coming! Just one second! But if you aren't serious, then I beg you -

**Nurse**: _(inside)_ Joliette!

**Joliette**: I'll be right there! - to stop pursuing me and leave me to my grief. I'll send the messenger tomorrow.

**Rovero**: By my soul-

**Joliette**: A thousand times good night!

_(**Joliette** leaves)_

**Rovero**: The night is a thousand times darker, now that you've left. Lovers seek each other like a worker returning home, but separate like the dawn of a new workday.

_(**Joliette** returns)_

**Joliette**: Psst! Rovero? Psst! I wish I could call him back, but I dare not raise my voice in case my father should hear. Otherwise I'd make the dome echo with my cries of "Rovero!"

**Rovero**: My soul is calling my name. How sweet lover's voices sound at night, like the softest music to a listening ear.

**Joliette**: Rovero!

**Rovero**: My dear?

**Joliette**: What time tomorrow should I send for you?

**Rovero**: By nine.

**Joliette**: I won't fail. It seems like twenty years until then. I've forgotten why I called you back...

**Rovero**: I'll stay until you remember.

**Joliette**: I'll never remember, just so I can keep you standing there and enjoy your company.

**Rovero**: I'll stay so you never forget, forgetting that I have any home but this one.

**Joliette**: It's almost morning. I know you should go, but I'd keep you close, like a little girl with her pet. She lets it move away, then pulls it back with silken threads, loving but jealous of it's freedom.

**Rovero**: I wish I was your pet!

**Joliette**: So do I, my sweet. But I would smother you with affection. Goodnight! Goodnight! Parting is such sweet sorrow that I could say say goodnight until it was morning.

_(**Joliette** leaves)_

**Rovero**: Sleep sweetly and peacefully. I wish I were sleep and peace, so I could rest sweetly. I'll go straight to my father's priest's private cell. I'll ask for his help and tell him about my good fortune.

_(**Rovero** leaves)_

Part Two – The Third Bit

_Father Laurel's room. **Father Laurel** enters, carrying a basket._

**Father Laurel**: The morning is fresh and new, and I must get to the gardens while it's still early so I can collect the medicinal herbs and flowers growing in the Apothecary Atrium. The earth is both nature's mother and it's grave. What dies is born again in many forms while the earth itself is refreshed. These plants have many fine qualities. All have some benefit, even though they are all different. The medicinal power of the Atrium's plants and herbs is very great. There's nothing growing that is so vile it doesn't have some good quality, and nothing so good that it can't be turned to evil. Misguided virtues can lead to vice, and vices can sometimes bring about a good outcome. Within this small flower is both poison and healing. Smell it, and you feel refreshed. Ingest it, and you will die. It's the same with people as with plants. Good and evil war within them, and if the evil wins, the spirit dies.

_(Rovero enters)_

**Rovero**: Good morning, Father!

**Father Laurel**: Throne Above! Who greets me so cheerily this early? My son, has something disturbed you to make you get up like this? Old men have problems sleeping because of worry, but carefree youth sleep sweetly with clear minds. It seems to me you must be up this early because something is bothering you. Or if not, and it seems I'm on the right track here, then you haven't been to bed yet.

**Rovero**: You've got it right in the end. I've been enjoying something better than sleep.

**Father Laurel**: Emperor protect us! Were you with Rosalene?

**Rovero**: With Rosalene? No, Father. I'm over her and the grief she caused me.

**Father Laurel**: That's my good boy. But where have you been, then?

**Rovero**: I'll tell you before you have to ask me again. I was at a party with my enemies, when all of a sudden, one of them wounded me and I wounded them. But you can help us both with your holy powers. I bear them no hatred, Father, for my request will help my foe as well as me.

**Father Laurel**: Speak plainly, my boy. Confusing confessions will only get a confused penance.

**Rovero**: To put it simply, I've given my heart to Guilder Catalene's beautiful daughter. And she has given hers to me. We are as one, except for what you must combine through marriage. I'll tell you where, when, and how we met and exchanged our vows as we walk. I only ask that you consent to marry us today.

**Father Laurel**: By the Golden Throne! This is quite a change! Have you so quickly forsaken Rosalene who you confessed to love so dearly? A young man's love, then, must be in their eyes and not in their hearts. Emperor above, but you cried oceans of tears over Rosalene! How much energy did you waste clinging to love, when it wasn't love at all? Your sighs still linger in the air! Your groans still ring in this old man's ears! Look, there is still the track of a tear on your cheek which you haven't washed off yet! If you were ever yourself, and this sorrow yours, then you and those sorrows were all for Rosalene. Are you really changed? If so, speak after me: "Women may be unfaithful, when their men are weak."

**Rovero**: You often lectured me for loving Rosalene.

**Father Laurel**: For obsessing, not for loving, my student!

**Rovero**: You told me to bury love.

**Father Laurel**: You weren't supposed to bury one by digging up another!

**Rovero**: Please don't scold me. The one I love now loves me as well. The other one did not.

**Father Laurel**: Oh, she knew your love was like reciting before you have learned to read. But come, young waverer, and walk with me. There's one good reason why I'll help you. It's possible this marriage may turn the hatred between your houses into peace.

**Rovero**: Let's go! The sooner the better!

**Father Laurel**: Wisely and slowly. Those who run too fast, trip.

_(They leave)_

Part Two – The Fourth Bit

_A street. Benedan and Mercatian enter._

**Mercatian**: Where the hell is Rovero? Didn't he come home last night?

**Benedan**: Not to the Guilder's compound. I asked one of his father's servants.

**Mercatian**: Why, that pale, hard-hearted wench Rosalene has him so tormented, he will surely go mad.

**Benedan**: Tybelle, Guilder Catalene's niece, sent a letter to Guilder Murgata's house.

**Mercatian**: I'd bet my life, it's a challenge!

**Benedan**: Rovero will answer it.

**Mercatian**: Any man who knows how to write can answer a letter.

**Benedan**: I mean he'll accept the challenge, show them he's not afraid.

**Mercatian**: So sad, poor Rovero. He's already dead, stabbed by that pale wench's evil eye. Skewered through the ear by some love song. His heart split by the tender claws of love. And he's supposed to fight Tybelle?

**Benedan**: Why? What's so great about Tybelle?

**Mercatian**: She's like a cat, only more so. She's like the swashbuckling rogue trader from the holovids! She fights the way musicians play, her timing, pace, and rhythm are perfect. She takes the briefest of pauses, and then, one, two and three is in your chest. Her strikes perfectly pierce shirt buttons. She's a duelist. A duelist! A first-class swordsman, top in all her classes. The forward thrust! The backhand slash! The hay-

**Benedan**: The what?

**Mercatian**: A curse on all such fancy, prissy, pretentious fakes. These trendy fashion victims! "By the Emperor! What a good blade! What a fine swordsman! What a good hacker!" Why, isn't it horrible, old man, that we have to put up with these weirdos, these fashion-plates, these "pardon me's," who are so into the latest trends that they cannot even sit on an old bench? Oh, their bones! Their aching bones!

_(Rovero enters)_

**Benedan**: Look, it's Rovero! Here comes Rovero!

**Mercatian**: And without his juice, like some spent battery. A shell, a shell, with no energy to animate it. I'm sure he's got some flowery poetry for us. The remembrancer Petrark's Laura will be no more than a kitchen-maid compared to his lady, even though Laura, mind you, had a better lover rhyming for her. Dydo will seem dumpy, Clyopatra an ash nomad, Helyn and Hyro gutter urchins and whores, and Therese, despite her grey eyes, will not even be considered. Sir Rovero, good the morning! There's a fashionable greeting for your fashionable garbage. You cheated us last night.

**Rovero**: Good morning to you both. How did I cheat you?

**Mercatian**: You gave us the slip, sir, the slip! Don't you understand?

**Rovero**: Forgive me, friend Mercatian. But I had urgent business, and in cases like that, we may forget our manners.

**Mercatian**: That's like saying that a case like yours makes you bend the rules, like your legs.

**Rovero**: Like a curtsy?

**Mercatian**: That's it exactly.

**Rovero**: A most courteous expression.

**Mercatian**: No, I am the very cut of courtesy.

**Rovero**: Cut, like a "flower"?

**Mercatian**: Correct!

**Rovero**: Well, then. My shoes are well flowered.

_(Historians note: Rovero points to his shoes, which have been sliced and trimmed to make them more ornamental, a process known as "cutting" which was very fashionable at one time among the youths in Veranda.)_

**Mercatian**: Such wit! I'll follow this joke until you have worn out those shoes, so when the sole sole of it is worn, after the wearing only the joke remains, solely singular.

**Rovero**: Oh, what a single soled joke, solely singular for it's singleness.

**Mercatian**: Separate us, friend Benedan. My wits are waning.

**Rovero**: Keep it up, keep it up, or I'll be the winner!

**Mercatian**: No, our wits are running a wild goobat chase. I'm done. Besides, you've got more wild goobat in one of your wits than I have in all five of mine. Did I catch up to you with the goobat?

**Rovero**: You've never caught up with me with anything, especially not with the goobat.

**Mercatian**: I should bite you on the ear for that last jab.

**Rovero**: No, good goobat, don't bite.

**Mercatian**: Your wit is a bitter-sweet sauce.

**Rovero**: Then it goes good with cooked goobat.

**Mercatian**: Oh, here's a wit that can be stretched too broad.

**Rovero**: I only stretch it out for that word "broad", which I'll combine to the goobat to prove that you are known far and wide as a broad goobat.

**Mercatian**: Now, isn't this more fun than groaning about love? Now you're sociable, you're the Rovero that I remember. Now you are what you are, by action and by nature. This soppy love is like a simpleton running around with his tongue hanging out, trying to find a hole to put his toy in.

**Benedan**: Stop now! No more!

**Mercatian**: You want me to stop before I get to the best part?

**Benedan**: Your story would undoubtedly have just gotten bigger.

**Mercatian**: Oh, you are mistaken. I would have made it shorter, for I had finished my story and was done arguing.

**Rovero**: Here comes an outfit!

_(Nurse enters, with her assistant, Preet)_

**Mercatian**: Prepare for lift off!

**Benedan**: There's two! His and hers!

**Nurse**: Preet!

**Preet**: Coming.

**Nurse**: My fan, Preet.

**Mercatian**: Good job Preet, it hides her face! That fan looks better than she does.

**Nurse**: Good morning to you, gentlemen.

**Mercatian**: Good afternoon, fair madam.

**Nurse**: Is it afternoon already?

**Mercatian**: It is indeed. The naughty finger of the clock is pointing right up at noon.

**Nurse**: Be off with you! What kind of man are you?

**Rovero**: One, dear lady, that the Emperor has made, but that he himself has marred.

**Nurse**: My word, that was will said. "That he himself has marred" you said. Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I can find young Rovero?

**Rovero**: I can tell you, but "young" Rovero will be older than he was when you went looking for him. I'm the youngest of that name, for lack of a worse one.

**Nurse**: Well said.

**Mercatian**: Oh, so the "worse" is well put? Very well too, I'll bet. Truly. Truly.

**Nurse**: If you are him, I'd like to speak with you privately.

**Benedan**: She will "indite" him over for dinner.

**Mercatian**: She's a hooker! A whore! A whore! Ah-ha!

**Rovero**: What did you find?

**Mercatian**: Not a rat, sir, unless there's a rat in a hoary old meat pie. (Sings)

A ratty old whore

And a hoary old rat

And very good meat but spent,

But a sickly whore

Isn't useful any more

To a very lusty gent.

Rovero, shall we go to you're father's? We'll eat there.

**Rovero**: I'll go with you.

**Mercatian**: Farewell, ancient lady. Farewell, lady...lady...lady...

_(**Mercatian** and **Benedan** leave)_

**Nurse**: Tell me, sir, who was that smart ass with the smutty talk?

**Rovero**: A gentleman, Nurse, who loves to hear himself talk. He speaks more in a minute than he will listen to in a month.

**Nurse**: If he talks to me like that again, I'll take him down! He talks bigger than he is, like twenty jackasses. And if I can't, I'll find someone who can. Scaavy dog! I am not one of his flirty girls, I am not one of his bed-warmers! And you just stand there, letting any ruffian have his way with me!

**Preet**: I didn't see anyone have his way with you. If I had, I would have drawn my weapon, I assure you. I'll draw as quick as the next man, if I see a reason for it and the law is on my side.

**Nurse**: Golden Throne, I'm so angry all my parts are shaking! Scaavy dog! If you will, sir, I'd like a word with you. My young lady sent me to find you. What she asked me to say, I'll keep to myself. First, let me tell you, if you lead her on some fool's errand, as they say, it would be a rotten thing to do, as they say. For the gentle lady is young, and so, if you deceive her, it would be a truly nasty thing to do to a young lady, a horrible way to act.

**Rovero**: Nurse, speak well of me to your lady! I swear to you-

**Nurse**: Bless your heart! In faith, I will tell her this. Emperor above, she'll be a happy woman!

**Rovero**: What will you tell her, Nurse? You're not listening.

**Nurse**: I'll tell her, sir, that you do swear. The way I see it, that's a gentleman's offer.

**Rovero**: Tell her to find some way to come to confession this afternoon. At Father Laurel's shrine, she can make her confession and be married. Take this for your trouble.

**Nurse**: Honestly sir, I can't take any money!

**Rovero**: Go on, I insist.

**Nurse**: This afternoon, sir? She'll be there.

**Rovero**: Wait, good Nurse. Within the hour, meet my man behind the shrine. He'll bring you a rope ladder that I can use to reach my love in the dead of night. Farewell. Keep our secret, and you'll be well rewarded. Farewell, and give my regards to your lady.

**Nurse**: Emperor on his golden throne watch over you! But one second, sir.

**Rovero**: What is it, Nurse?

Nurse: Is your man trustworthy? Haven't you heard the saying "Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead."

**Rover**: I guarantee my man is true as plasteel.

**Nurse**: Well, sir, my lady is the sweetest girl. Emperor, she was a little chatterbox. But there's a nobleman in town, by the name of Spira, that wants to marry her. But she, dear soul, would sooner see a bloatfly, a bloatfly, than see him. I anger her sometimes, when I tell her that Spira is the best man. But, I swear to you, when I say this, she looks paler than the whitest sheet in the entire world. Don't rosemary and Rovero start with the same letter?

**Rovero**: Yes, Nurse. What of it? Both start with an R.

**Nurse**: Joker! "R" is what hounds say. R is for...no, I know it begins with another letter. And she has a lovely saying, about you and rosemary, that you would love to hear.

**Rovero**: My regards to your lady!

**Nurse**: Of course! A thousand times yes! Preet!

**Preet**: Coming!

**Nurse**: Lead the way, and quickly!

_(They all leave)_

Part Two – The Fifth Bit

_Guilder Catalene's gardens. **Joliette** enters._

**Joliette**: It was nine when I sent Nurse out. She promised to return in half an hour. Maybe she can't find him. That can't be. She's too slow. Love's messengers should be like thoughts, flying faster than the sun's beams to drive back the shadows. That's why the hive-spirit Qufus has his wings. Now it is midday. It is three long hours between then and now, and she has not returned. If she had the emotions and hot blood of youth, she'd move faster than a ball. My words would hurl her to my love, and his would hurl her back right away. But old folks, many pretend to be dead, are clumsy, slow, heavy, and pale as lead.

_(**Nurse** and **Preet** enter)_

Throne above, she's returned! Oh sweet Nurse, what news? Did you meet with him? Send your many away.

**Nurse**: Preet, wait at the gate.

_(Preet leaves)_

**Joliette**: Now, good sweet Nurse... Emperor, why do you look so sad? If the news is bad, tell it to me cheerfully. If it's good news, you spoil the music of good news by using such a sour face!

**Nurse**: I'm exhausted! Give me one second. Oh, how my bones ache! What a trip I had!

**Joliette**: I wish you had my bones, and I had your news. Now please, I'm begging you, tell me! Good, good Nurse, tell me!

**Nurse**: Throne, what's the hurry? Can't you wait just a moment? Can't you see that I'm out of breath?

**Joliette**: How can you be out of breath when you're telling me how out of breath you are? Your delays are longer than the story you need to tell! Is your news good or bad? Just tell me that! One or the other, and I'll wait for the details. Just let me know, is it good or bad?

**Nurse**: Well, you have made a simple choice. You don't know how to chose a man. Rovero? No, not him. Although his face is better than other men, despite his having better legs. And his hands, feet, or body, although they're not worth talking about, they're beyond compare. He's not the flower of courtesy, although I'll say he is gentle as a babe. Well, off you go wench. Serve the Emperor. Did you have lunch here at home?

**Joliette**: No, no. I already knew all this. What did he say about our marriage? What about that?

**Nurse**: Throne, how my head aches! Oh, my head! It's pounding like it would break into twenty pieces. My back on the other side. Oh, my back! My back! Curse your heart for sending me all over the place, it'll be my death, all that running back and forth.

**Joliette**: Honestly, I'm sorry that you don't feel well! Sweet, sweet, sweet Nurse, please tell me. What did my love say?

**Nurse**: Your love says, like an honest gentleman, a courteous, kind, and no doubt virtuous man – Where's your father?

**Joliette**: "Where is your father"? He's inside, where else would he be? "Your love says, like an honest gentleman, 'Where is your father'?"

**Nurse**: Emperor's blood, my lady! Are you that impatient? This is my thanks? This is the cure for my aching bones? In the future, run your own messages.

**Joliette**: What a fuss! Come now, what did Rovero say?

**Nurse**: Do you have permission to go to confession today?

**Joliette**: I do.

**Nurse**: Then go to the shrine of Father Laurel There waits a husband to make you into a wife. Now your blood makes you blush, you turn scarlet at the drop of a pin. Off you go to the shrine. I have to go somewhere else and fetch a ladder, so that your love my come to you once it gets dark. I'm the laborer, toiling to make you happy. But you'll be bearing the burden soon tonight. Go now. I'm going to have some dinner. Hurry to the shrine.

**Joliette**: Off to good fortune! Farewell, honest Nurse!

_(They both leave)_

Part Two – The Sixth Bit

_Father Laurel's shrine. ** Father Laurel** and **Rovero** enter_

**Father Laurel**: May the Emperor smile upon this holy ceremony, so that sorrow will not punish us in the days to come.

**Rovero**: Agreed. But whatever sorrow may come, it cannot overpower the joy from one short minute in her company. Just join our hands in wedlock, then death itself can do what it wants. It's enough for me that I can call her mine.

**Father Laurel**: Such violent passions have violent endings, and in their moment of triumph die. Like fire and promethium, when they touch they are destroyed. The sweetest treats are so delicious they ruin the appetite. Therefor, love in moderation, so that it will endure. The swiftest often arrive at the same time as the slowest.

_(**Joliette** enters)_

Here is the lady. Her light feet will never wear out life's hard road. A lover can cross the threads of spider webs as they float upon the air and still not fall, so insubstantial are the pleasures of the world.

**Joliette**: Good afternoon, Father.

**Father Laurel**: Rovero will thank you, daughter, for both of us.

**Joliette**: And some thanks back to him, or he has overpaid.

**Rovero**: Ah, Joliette. If your joy is as great as mine, and your skill better to announce it, let your breath sweeten the air with the words that describe our mutual happiness at this meeting.

**Joliette**: Pride, richer with things that with words, brags about what he has instead of using flowery words. Only love's beggars can count their worth. My true love has grown so great, that I couldn't count half of my wealth.

**Father Laurel**: All right now, come with me. We'll be quick about this, for, begging your pardons, I dare not leave you two alone until you are joined as one before the Golden Throne.

_(They all leave)_


	4. Chapter 4

Part Three – The First Bit

_A street in Veranda. **Mercatian**, **Benedan**, and some of Murgata's Orlocks enter._

**Benedan**: C'mon, Mercatian, let's go home. It's hot, and Catalene's Van Saars are out and about. If we run into them, there will be a fight. This heat makes everyone irritable and hostile.

**Mercatian**: You're like one of those down-hivers who slaps his pistol down on the bar when he goes into a tavern and declares "May the Emperor make sure I don't need this." But by the time he's into his second drink, he's waving it around creating his own trouble.

**Benedan**: You think I'm like that?

**Mercatian**: Oh, please! You're as hot-blooded as anyone in Hive City. You're easily provoked to anger, and when angry, easily provoked.

**Benedan**: To what?

**Mercatian**: No, if there were two of you, we'd be back to one soon enough, because one of you would kill the other one. Because you, why, you would argue about whether or not a man has one hair more or less in his beard than you have. You would pick a fight with a man for whetting his dagger, because you have steely eyes. Who else would see that as a reason to fight? Your head is as full of arguments as an egg is full of food, but you've had your head cracked and scrambled because of all those arguments. You fought with a man for coughing in the street because he woke up your pet! And didn't you pick a fight with that clothier for wearing a new shirt before the holidays? And there was the guy who you thought had tied his new shoes with old laces. And you want to lecture me about fighting?

**Benedan**: If I were as itching to fight as you are, my life wouldn't be worth the simple fee of an hour and a quarter!

**Mercatian**: The simple fee? Very simple!

_(Tybelle and her Van Saars enter)_

**Benedan**: Throne above, it's Catalene's Van Saars.

**Mercatian**: I couldn't care less.

**Tybelle**: Stay behind me. I'm going to talk to them. Gentlemen, good evening. I'd like to have a word with you.

**Mercatian**: Just one word for both of us? Add something to it. Make it a word and a blow.

**Tybelle**: You'll find me ready and willing for that, sir, if you just give me an excuse.

**Mercatian**: You can't find your own excuse? You need me to give you one?

**Tybelle**: Mercatian, you're one of Rovero's group-

**Mercatian**: Group? What do you think we are, musicians? If you turn us into musicians, you'll hear nothing from us but dis-chords. Here's my instrument. I'll make you dance with this. "Group!"

**Benedan**: We're talking out in public. We should go someplace private, or else keep your voices down and stay civil, or we should go our separate ways. Everyone's looking at us.

**Mercatian**: Eyes were made for looking, so let them look. I won't budge for anyone. I won't.

_(**Rovero** enters)_

**Tybelle**: Peace, then. Here comes my man.

**Mercatian**: I'll be damned, if he's on your side. If you start the fight, then yes, he'll fight after you. Your ladyship can then, in that way, call him "your man."

**Tybelle**: Rovero, my regard for you is worth no more than this: you are a villain!

**Rovero**: Tybelle, the reasons I have to love you are so great that I can't feel angery at this greeting. I am not a villain. And so, good-bye. I see you don't know me at all.

**Tybelle**: Boy, this will not heal the injuries you have done to me! Turn and fight!

**Rovero**: I swear, I've never hurt you. I'm fonder of you than you can know until you understand the reasons why. And so, good Catalene, a name I value as much as my own, be satisfied for now.

**Mercatian**: What a meek, dishonorable, disgusting submission! Throw it all away! _(He draws his sword)_ Tybelle, you rat-catcher, will you walk away?

**Tybelle**: What do you want with me?

**Mercatian**: Good Queen of Cats, I want just one of your nine lives, and if you don't show me more respect, I'll give the other eight a good beating. Will you draw your sword by it's ears? Be quick, or mine will be about your ears before you get it out.

**Tybelle**: I'll take you on. _(She draws)_

**Rovero**: Mercatian! Stop this now!

**Mercatian**: Come on, show me your fancy sword play!

_(**Tybelle** and **Mercatian** fight)_

**Rovero**: Draw your sword, Benedan, and make them stop! Shame on you both! Stop this outrage! Tybelle! Mercatian! The Guilder Prince has made it clear this fighting in the streets has been outlawed! Stop, Tybelle! Friend Mercatian!

_(Rovero steps between the fighters. Tybelle thrusts under Rovero's arm and impales Mercatian. Tybelle and her Van Saar leave.)_

**Mercatian**: She got me. Curse both of your Houses, this is fatal. Did she get away unscathed?

**Benedan**: What, are you hurt?

**Mercatian**: Yes. It's just a scratch, a scratch. But it's enough. Where's my assistant? Hurry up, you bastard, and get me a medicae.

_(The Assistant leaves)_

**Rovero**: Be brave, it can't be that bad.

**Mercatian**: No, it's not as deep as the sumps, or as wide as a hanger door, but it's enough to do it's job. Ask for me tomorrow, and you'll find me a grave man. I am done with this world. Curse both of your houses! Throne! A pet cat scratches a man to death. A braggart, a rogue, a fancy-pants that fights according to school rules! Why the hell did you step between us? She got me under your arm!

**Rovero**: I thought it was for the best.

**Mercatian**: Help me off the street, Benedan, before I faint. Damn both your houses! You've made rat-burgers out of me. I've had it, there's no doubt. Both your houses!

_(Benedan helps Mercatian leave)_

**Rovero**: This good man, the Guilder Prince's own kinsman and my good friend, has been injured fighting on my behalf, defending me from Tybelle's slander. Tybelle, who has been my relative for just under an hour! Oh, Joliette, your beauty has made me effeminate and weak.

_(**Benedan** enters)_

**Benedan**: Rovero! Rovero, Mercatian is dead. His soul has gone to stand before the Golden Throne. He was far too young for this.

**Rovero**: This day's black deeds are just the beginning. Darker days are coming, and it will be up to others to end them.

_(Tybelle returns)_

**Benedan**: That bitch Tybelle has come back!

**Rovero**: Alive, triumphant, because Mercatian is dead! Let mercy join him up above. Fury guides me now. Tybelle, take back your accusation of "villain"! Mercatian's soul is hovering above our heads, waiting for yours to keep him company. Either you or I, or both of us, must join him!

**Tybelle**: Wretched boy! You were part of his group here, so you can go with him.

**Rovero**: This will determine that!

_(Rovero and Tybelle fight. Tybelle is killed.)_

**Benedan**: Rovero! Get out of here! Run! People are coming, and Tybelle is dead! Don't just stand there in shock! The Prince will condemn you to death if you're captured! Get out of here! Move it!

**Rovero**: I am such a fool.

**Benedan**: Why are you still here?

_(Rovero leaves)_

_(A group of Citizens enters)_

**Citizen**: Which way did Mercatian's killer run? Tybelle, that murderer, where did she go?

**Benedan**: Tybelle is right here.

**Citizen**: Get up, woman, and come with me. In the name of the Prince, obey me!

_(The **Guilder** **Prince Engardus**, **Murgata**, **Catalene**, their spouses, and a large crowd of their people enters)_

**Engardus**: Where are the bastards that started all this?

**Benedan**: Noble prince, I can reveal everything that happened in this fatal brawl. There is the woman, killed by Rovero, who has killed your kinsman, my friend Mercatian.

**Lady Catalene**: Tybelle, my niece! My brother's daughter! My prince! My lord! The blood of my dear niece has been shed! My prince, since you are just, Murgata must pay blood for blood! My niece! Niece!

**Engardus**: Benedan, who started this bloody fight?

**Benedan**: Tybelle, who is lying here dead, slain by Rovero. Rovero talked peacefully with her, told her how trivial this old argument is, and stressed how angry you would be with their actions. Despite saying this calmly and humbly, he couldn't pacify Tybelle's anger. Deaf to Rovero's words, Tybelle slashed at Mercatian's chest. Mercatian was just as angry, and drew his sword and returned the blow. With a dagger in his left hand to defend himself, Mercatian attacked with own sword, but Tybelle easily countered the strike. Rovero kept shouting "Stop, friends! Break it up!" and rushed in between them. Tybelle thrust her sword under Rovero's covering arm and stabbed Mercatian, killing him. She then ran away. It wasn't long before she came back for Rovero, who now thought only of revenge. They went at it like lightning, and before I could take out my own sword to break them up, Tybelle was killed. As she died, Rovero turned and fled. On my life, this is the truth.

_Lady Catalene_: He's a kinsman of the Murgatas. His relation makes him a liar. He's not telling the truth. There must have been twenty of them in this vile brawl, and all they could take is this one life. I beg for justice, Guilder Prince, which you must give. Rovero killed Tybelle. Rovero must die.

**Engardus**: Rovero did kill Tybelle, but Tybelle had killed Mercatian. Who pays for his death?

**Murgata**: Not Rovero, Prince. He was Mercatian's friend. His only fault was doing what the law would have done: end the life of Tybelle.

**Engardus**: And for doing that, he is immediately banished. I now have an interest in your old vendetta. My blood has been shed by your vile brawls. I'm going to impose a fine so heavy you will both regret my loss. I am not going to listen to any pleading or excuses. Your tears and prayers will not save you now, so don't bother wasting them. Rovero must leave at once. If he doesn't once we find him his life is forfeit. Take this body away, and obey my will. If we pardon murder, we only encourage it.

_(They all leave)_

Part Three – The Second Bit

_Joliette's bedroom. **Joliette** enters._

**Joliette**: If only evening would come sooner! The Emperor could hurry things along and make it start immediately. Once it's dark, my secret husband can come into my arms, quietly and unseen! Love can find it's own way in the dark, drawn by a lover's radiance, so they may enjoy the dark's embrace. Come, virtuous night, like a matron dressed in black, and teach me how to win by losing this match, where our virginities are the prize. Hide my maiden's blood, shown by my blushing cheeks, in your dark cloak until I become more familiar with this strange act of love. Quickly, night! Come, Rovero, my daylight in the darkness! You shine in the darkness like jewels upon velvet! Come, gentle night, come, dark but loving night, and bring me my Rovero. And when he dies, you should cut him into little stars so that the sky will look so beautiful, everyone will love the night and hate the sun! I have bought the house of my love, but not yet moved in, and even though I am sold, my owner hasn't enjoyed me yet! This day will never end, like the nights before a festival to an impatient child with new robes who isn't allowed to wear them yet! Oh, here comes my Nurse.

_(The Nurse enters with a rope ladder, and looks agitated.)_

And she has some news. Every voice that speaks Rovero's name is divine. Nurse, did you bring news? What do you have there? Are those the ropes that Rovero asked you to bring?

**Nurse**: Yes, yes, the ropes.

**Joliette**: Oh no, what's happened? Why are you wringing your hands?

**Nurse**: Emperor Above, dead! Dead, dead, dead! We're ruined, my lady, we're ruined! Throne, he's gone! He's killed! Dead!

**Joliette**: Could the Throne be so envious?

**Nurse**: Rovero can, though the Throne cannot. Oh, Rovero! Rovero! Whoever would have thought it? Rovero!

**Joliette**: What ruinous power are you to torment me like this? This torture is fit for the deepest hell! Has Rovero killed himself? Just say "aye", and the simple vowel "I" will kill more than the deadly navigator's eye. I will not be "I" if there is such an "aye", or if his eyes are closed and you must answer "aye". If he's been killed, say "aye"; if not, say "no". My happiness or misery rests on such simple words.

**Nurse**: I saw the wound. I saw it with my own eyes, Emperor forgive me, here on the chest. A pitiful corpse, a bloody, pitiful corpse. Pale, like ashes, all splattered with blood, clotted blood! I fainted at the sight.

**Joliette**: My heart must break! Poor empty heart, break at once! Imprison my eyes, because they shall never look on liberty again! My body must return to the earth, my life must end, so that Rovero and I can share one funeral bed.

**Nurse**: Tybelle! Tybelle! The best friend I ever had! Gentle Tybelle, fair and honest! That I should live to see you dead!

**Joliette**: Is there no end to this misery? Is Rovero murdered and Tybelle dead as well? My dear cousin, and my dearer husband? Let the heralds announce the end of the world, for who is living if these two are dead?

**Nurse**: Tybelle is dead, and Rovero has been banished. Rovero, who killed her, is banished!

**Joliette**: Throne Above! Did Rovero kill Tybelle?

**Nurse**: He did! He did! Curse the day, he did!

**Joliette**: A poisonous heart hid within a handsome face! Did any monster ever have such a beautiful lair? Beautiful monster! Angelic daemon! Blood-thirsty dust bat! The foulest slime disguised as heavenly light! The exact opposite of what he seemed to be! A damned saint, an honorable thief! What ruinous power in hell placed the spirit of such a fiend inside such a beautiful human form? Was there ever a more vile book placed inside such an attractive cover? Oh, that such lies should hide in such a beautiful face!

**Nurse**: There's no trust, or faith, or honesty in men! They're all liars, deceivers, good-for-nothings, and cheaters! Where's Preet? I need hard liqueur! All this grief, sorrow, and woe makes me old! Shame on Rovero!

**Joliette**: May your tongue be blistered for saying such things! Shame isn't part of his nature! Shame is ashamed to visit his face, for only honor may reside in him! I was a horrible beast to doubt him!

**Nurse**: You would defend the man who killed your cousin?

Joliette: Would I not defend the man who is my husband? My poor husband! Who will defend your honor when I, your wife of only three hours, just sullied it? But why, villain, did you kill my cousin? Of course! Because that hot-headed cousin would have killed my husband! These foolish tears must stop. They're full of sorrow, when they should belong to joy. My husband is alive. Tybelle would have killed him. But Tybelle is dead, by the man she would have killed. This is good news. Why, then, should I weep? There was one word, worse than Tybelle's death, that struck me. If only I could forget it, but it presses on my memories, like guilty deeds pressing on sinner's minds. "Tybelle is dead. Rovero is...banished." That "banished", that one word "banished" has killed ten thousand Tybelles. Tybelle's death was bad enough if things had just ended there. And if misery needs company so badly, why didn't she say "Tybelle is dead" and then add "and your mother" or "and your father" or both? That would have caused some genuinely sorrowful tears. But by following "Tybelle is dead" with "Rovero is banish" is like saying they are all dead: Tybelle, mother, father, Rovero and Joliette. All dead. Rovero is "banished." There is no end, no limit, no boundary, no way to measure the power in that word's death. No words exist to describe this sorrow. Where are my parents, Nurse?

**Nurse**: Weeping and wailing over Tybelle's corpse. Will you go to them? I can bring you there.

**Joliette**: Are they washing her wounds with tears? When their tears are dry, I will shed mine for Rovero's banishment. Pick up this ladder. Poor ropes, you were tricked, both you and I, for Rovero has been banished. He created you so that he could reach my bed, but I am a virgin, and I'll die a virgin widow. Come ropes, come Nurse. I'll go to my wedding bed, so that death, and not Rovero, can take my virginity.

**Nurse**: Go to your bedroom. I'll find Rovero so he can comfort you. I'm sure I know where he is. Listen carefully: your Rovero will be here tonight. I'll go to him. I'm sure he's at Father Laurel's shrine.

**Joliette**: Find him! Give this ring to my true knight, and tell him to come and make his last farewell.

_(They leave)_

Part Three – The Third Bit

_(Father Laurel's shrine. **Father Laurel** enters)_

**Father Laurel**: Rovero, come out. Come on out, you frightened man. Affliction has certainly taken a liking to you, and you seem married to misfortune.

_(**Rovero** enters)_

**Rovero**: What news have you brought? What is the Guilder Prince's judgment? What new misfortune is waiting to meet me?

**Father Laurel**: My dear boy has become too familiar with such bad company. I bring you news of the Guilder Prince's decision.

**Rovero**: Is the decision any less than death?

**Father Laurel**: A gentler decision has come from the Guilder Prince. Not death, but banishment.

**Rovero**: Ah! Banishment? Be merciful and say "death"! Exile is much more frightening than death! Don't say "banishment!"

**Father Laurel**: You are banished from Veranda and all the Guilder Prince's territories. But relax, for the hive is vast, and there are other hives upon the world as well.

**Rovero**: There's nothing outside the dome of Veranda except ash waste, toxic sumps, and hell itself. And so banished means "banished from the world." And banishment from the world is death. Using banished to mean death is like cutting off my head with a golden axe and smiling at the stroke that kills me.

**Father Laurel**: Oh, what a deadly sin is this crude ingratitude! According to the law, what you've done is punishable by death. But the kind Prince, as a favor to you, has set aside the law and instead turned "death" into "banishment." This is a gracious mercy, even if you don't see it.

**Rovero**: It's torture, not mercy. Heaven is here where Joliette lives. Every pet and worthless creature can live here in heaven and look at her. But I can't. There's more value, status, and worth in common flies than in me. They can land upon her soft hands, or steal kisses from her gentle lips, which still blush with virginal modesty at the thought that they commit sins when they touch each other. But I can't. I'm banished. Flies can do this, but I must fly away. They are free, while I am banished. Do you still want to claim that exile isn't death? Don't you have any poison, or sharp knives, or any other quick way to die, no matter how ignoble, to kill me besides "banishment?" Banished! Father, the lost and the damned use that word in hell! Their howls accompany it! How do you have the heart, a priest, a confessor and an abolisher of sins, and my friend, to tear me to shreds with that word "banished?"

**Father Laurel**: You are mad with grief, just listen to me for a moment.

**Rovero**: Oh, will you say some more about banishment?

**Father Laurel**: I'll give you the armor to ward off that word and a philosophy to comfort you, even though you are banished.

**Rovero**: But I'm still "banished". Hang your philosophy. Unless your philosophy can make a Joliette, transplant the town, or reverse the Prince's doom, it will not help me at all. So say no more.

**Father Laurel**: I see that madmen have no ears.

**Rovero**: Why should they, when wise men have no eyes?

**Father Laurel**: Let me discuss your situation with you.

**Rovero**: You can't discuss what you can't feel. If you were my age, with Joliette as your love, being married only an hour, with Tybelle dead, deeply in love like me, and banished like me, then you might be able to speak. Then you might tear out your hair and fall upon the ground like I do, so that I may be measured for my coffin.

_(Someone knocks at the door)_

**Father Laurel**: Get up. Someone is here. Rovero, find someplace to hide.

**Rovero**: I won't. Let my heartsick moans make a mist to shield me from unfriendly eyes.

_(More knocking)_

**Father Laurel**: Listen to that knocking! Who's there? Rovero, get up! You will be captured. Just one second! Get up!

_(More knocking)_

Hide in my study. Just a moment! Throne Above, what stupidity is this? I'm coming, I'm coming!

_(More knocking)_

Who's knocking so loudly? Where have you come from? What do you want?

**Nurse** _(outside)_: Let me in, and you'll know my errand. Lady Joliette sent me.

**Father Laurel**: Welcome,then.

_(**Nurse** rushes in)_

**Nurse**: Oh, holy Father. Tell me, holy father, where is my lady's husband? Where's Rovero?

**Father Laurel**: There on the ground, drunk on his own tears.

**Nurse**: Oh, he's in the same condition as my lady. The very same. What a sad sympathy, what a pitiful predicament. I left her lying the same way, blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering. Get up! Stand up! If you're a man, stand up! For Joliette's sake, for her sake, get up and stand! Why should you slip into so deep a hole?

**Rovero**: Nurse...

**Nurse**: Ah, sir. Ah, sir. Death's the end of it all.

**Rovero**: Are you talking about Joliette? How is she? Doesn't she think I'm some casual killer, now that I've ruined the first moments of our joy with the blood of her close family? Where is she? How is she? What does my hidden wife say about our canceled love?

**Nurse**: She says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps. One moment she's on her bed, and the next she's up and crying out for Tybelle, and then for Rovero, and then she falls back down again.

**Rovero**: It's like my name, fired from the muzzle of a pistol, has killed her as surely as the hand of that name killed her cousin. Tell me, Father, tell me, in what vile part of my body is my name hidden? Tell me, so that I can cut out that hated place!

**Father Laurel**: Stay your hand! Aren't you a man? Your shape says you are, but these tears do not, and your wild behavior suggests you are some frenzied beast! You seem to be a man, but you're behaving like an unseemly woman; these two things together make a repulsive animal. You have amazed me. By my holy vows, I thought you were better than this. Have you killed Tybelle? Will you kill yourself now? Will you also kill your wife, whose life is now one with yours, by damning your immortal soul through suicide? Why do you rant against your birth, heaven, and earth when all three are joined together inside you, and all three will be lost together if you die? Come now! You shame your body, your love and your wits. Like a loan shark you have all three in abundance, but you don't use them to improve yourself! Your body is merely a doll, lacking manliness. Your vows of love are hollow words, choking the love you have sworn to cherish, and your wits, which enhance your body and your love, misguides both of them, like a loaded lasgun in the hands of an untrained soldier, whose ignorance causes their own weapon to take their life. Now, get up, man! Your Joliette is alive, for who's dear sake you were just now wishing you were dead. There's your good reason to be happy. Tybelle would have killed you, but you killed Tybelle. Another reason to be happy. The law which should condemn you to death has become your friend and given you exile. In that, you should be happy too. An abundance of blessings have landed upon you. Happiness searches for you in the best manner, but like a sullen and spoiled brat, you pout about your good fortune and your love. Take heed of my words; such people die miserable. Go, get to your love like you had planned. Climb to her room at once and comfort her. But make sure you don't stay too long, or the guards will be set and you won't be able to escape to Downtwo-A. You will live there until we can make your marriage public, reconcile your friends, beg the Guilder Prince's pardon, and welcome you back with twenty hundred thousand times more joy than the tears with which you are leaving. Return home first, Nurse. Give my regards to your lady. Tell her to encourage everyone to go to bed early, which they will be apt to do anyway with such heavy sorrows. Rovero will come soon after.

**Nurse**: Throne Above, I could have stayed all night listening to such good advice. What an education that was! My lord, I'll tell my lady that you will come for her.

**Rovero**: Please do, and tell my sweet to prepare to scold me.

**Nurse**: Here's a ring, sir, that she asked me to give you. Hurry! Make haste, for it's getting very late.

**Rovero**: I feel so much better after all this.

**Father Laurel**: Go quickly, and good night. Here is how things stand: you must be gone before the Night Watch goes on duty, or you will have to leave disguised at daybreak. Stay in Downtwo-A. I'll find your friends and send them over from time to time to tell you any good news that affects you here. Give me your hand. It's late. Farewell. Good night.

**Rovero**: If it wasn't for the fact that a joy passing all joy calls me, I'd be sad for having to leave you so quickly. Farewell!

_(They all leave)_

Part Three – The Fourth Bit

_Catalene's house. **Guilder Catalene**, **Lady Catalene**, and **Spira** enter._

**Catalene**: Things have turned out so badly, sir, that we haven't had time to approach our daughter about this. You see, she loved her cousin Tybelle very much, and so did I. Well, we were all born to die. But it's very late, and she won't be coming down tonight. If it weren't for your company, I can assure you that I'd be in bed already.

**Spira**: Times of grief are not proper times for courtship. Lady Catalene, good night. Give my regards to your daughter.

**Lady Catalene**: I will. I'll find out what she thinks early tomorrow. Tonight, she's too full of grief.

_(Spira starts to leave, but Guilder Catalene calls him back)_

**Catalene**: Sir Spira, I will offer you my child's love. I believe she will be ruled by me in this matter. No, actually, I have no doubts about it at all. Wife, go to her before you come to bed. Tell her of Spira's love, and tell her – are you paying attention?- that this Wednesday... But wait, what day is this?

**Spira**: Monday, lord guilder.

**Catalene**: Monday, of course! Well, Wednesday is too soon. Thursday, then. On Thursday, tell her, she will be married to this nobleman. Will you be ready, sir? Is this fast enough? We'll keep it small, just a few friends. Since Tybelle was killed so recently, we don't want people to think we're taking her death too lightly by having a large celebration. So we'll just have a half dozen friends, and leave it at that. So, what do you say to Thursday?

**Spira**: My lord, I wish tomorrow was Thursday.

**Catalene**: Well then, it's time we part. Thursday it will be. Wife, visit Joliette before you come to bed. Let her know about our plans for her wedding day. Good night, my lord. Prepare my bed chamber! I swear, it's so very late that we will soon be saying it's very early. Good night!

_(They all leave)_

Part Three – The Fifth Bit

_Joliette's bedroom. **Rovero** and **Joliette** stand by the window._

**Joliette**: Must you go? It's not day yet. It was the nightly noises you heard, not the morning stirrings of the house. Believe me, my love, they were just night noises.

**Rovero**: The house is waking up, those were not night sounds. Look, my love, at how the dawn is breaking through the skylights, there in the east. The stars are vanishing, and it looks like it will be a pleasant day outside the hive. I must go if I want to live, or I can stay and die.

**Joliette**: That light is not sunlight! I know it, I do. It's some stray beam the sun has sent to light your way to Downtwo-A. So you can stay a little longer. You don't have to leave just yet.

**Rovero**: Let them take me and put me to death. I'm fine with it, if that's what you want. I'll say that faint glow in not the first light of dawn, just some reflection off a station in orbit, and it's not nightly wanderings I hear beyond these walls. I would rather stay than go. Come, death, and be welcome! Joliette wants it this way. How are you, my love? Let's talk. It isn't day.

**Joliette**: It is, it is! Go quickly! Begone! Go! It is the household stirring that makes such rude and unpleasant sounds! Such soft morning voices chase you away, like some watchman's alarm. Quickly, now. It's getting much lighter.

**Rovero**: The lighter the light, the darker my sorrow.

_(Nurse enters in a hurry)_

**Nurse**: Madam!

**Joliette**: Nurse?

**Nurse**: Your mother is coming to your room! It's morning! Be alert, and watch out!

_(Nurse hurries out)_

**Joliette**: So then, window, let the morning light in and my life out.

**Rovero**: Goodbye, goodbye. One kiss, and I'll climb down.

_(Rovero climbs through the window)_

**Joliette**: Are you gone so quickly? Love, lord, husband, friend, I must hear from you every hour of the day. There are many days in just a single minute. By this thinking, I'll be years older when I next see my Rovero.

**Rovero**: Goodbye! I won't miss a single opportunity to send word to you, my love.

**Joliette**: Oh, do you think we'll ever meet again?

**Rovero**: I have no doubts. All these trials will turn into sweet memories for us in the future.

**Joliette**: Emperor's Blood! I have seen a dark prophecy! I seem to see you, now that you are down below, as if you're in the bottom of a tomb! Either my sight is dimming, or you look very pale.

**Rovero**: It's nothing, for you look the same to me. Sorrow drains the blood from our faces. Farewell! Farewell!

_(Rovero leaves)_

**Joliette**: Oh Fortune, Fortune! I've heard men call you fickle. If you are so fickle, why do you play with Rovero, who is well known for his faith? Stay fickle, Fortune, for then I hope you won't keep him for long before giving him back to me.

_(Lady Catalene enters)_

**Lady Catalene**: My daughter, are you awake?

**Joliette**: Who's that calling? It's my mother. Hasn't she gone to bed yet, or is she just up very early? What could have happened to bring her here?

**Lady Catalene**: What's wrong, Joliette?

**Joliette**: Mother, I don't feel well.

**Lady Catalene**: Still crying over your cousin's death? Do you hope to wash her out of the grave with your tears? Even if you did, they wouldn't be able to bring her back to life. Be done. A little grief shows your affection, but too much shows a lack of wits.

**Joliette**: Even so, let me cry for this feeling of loss.

**Lady Catalene**: You'll still feel the loss, but you won't feel the friend you cry for.

**Joliette**: I feel the loss so much, I can't do anything but weep for the friend.

**Lady Catalene**: Well, daughter, you are not crying so much for her death, as you're crying that the criminal who killed her is still alive.

**Joliette**: What criminal, mother?

**Lady Catalene**: That villain Rovero.

**Joliette**: "Villain" and he are many miles apart. Emperor pardon him. I do, with all my heart. But no other man grieves my heart more than he does.

**Lady Catalene**: That's because the traitorous murderer is still alive.

**Joliette**: Yes, mother, beyond the reach of my hands. I want no one but me to get revenge for my cousin's death.

**Lady Catalene**: We'll get our vengeance, do not fear. So cry no more. I'll send someone to Downtwo-A, where that banished criminal will be living, who will give him such a strange beverage, that he'll soon be keeping Tybelle company. Then I hope you will be satisfied.

**Joliette**: Indeed, I will never be satisfied with Rovero until I behold him -dead- is my poor heart, for a kinsman so afflicted. Mother, if you could only find a man to carry the poison, I would mix it so that Rovero, when he received it, would soon sleep quietly. Oh, how my heart loathes to hear his name, when I can't reach him to afflict the love I had for my cousin upon his body.

**Lady Catalene**: You find the way, and I'll find the man. Now, I've got some good news for you, my daughter.

**Joliette**: Good news is most welcome at a time like this. What is it, may I ask?

**Lady Catalene**: Well...well...you have a caring father, child. One who, in order to lift your sorrow, has prepared a day of joy that you did not expect, and neither did I.

**Joliette**: What good timing! What kind of day is that?

**Lady Catalene**: Well, my child, early next Thursday morning, the gallant, young, and noble gentleman, Count Spira, will make you a happy bride at the Temple of the Emperor's Ascension.

**Joliette**: Now by the Temple of the Emperor's Ascension and the Emperor himself, he won't make me a happy bride there! I'm amazed by this, that I'm expected to marry this man who wants to be my husband before he's even started talking to me! With respect, tell my lord and my father, mother, that I will not marry yet. And when I do, I swear it will be to Rovero, whom you know I hate, and not Spira. Good news, indeed!

**Lady Catalene**: Here comes your father now. Tell him this yourself, and we'll see how it takes it coming straight from your lips.

_(**Guilder Catalene** and **Nurse** enter)_

**Catalene**: After the sun sets, the dew collects on the skylights. After the death of my niece, it pours. What's the matter, girl? Are you a rain spout? Why are you still in tears? Will you cry forever? All this carrying on will damage you unless you can calm down. How about it, my wife? Did you tell her my decision?

**Lady Catalene**: Yes, I have. She says to thank you, but she wants none of it. I think the fool is married to her grave.

**Catalene**: Hold on. I'm not following you. I think I don't understand what you're saying. What do you mean, she wants none of it? Didn't she thank us? Isn't she proud? Doesn't she count her blessings, unworthy as she is, that we have managed to get such a nobleman to marry her?

**Joliette**: I'm not proud you have done this, but I am grateful. I can never be proud of something I hate, but I'm grateful even though I hate it, that you get if for me out of love.

**Catalene**: What's this? What? What? Chopped logic! What's this? "Proud" and "thank you," and yet "not proud" and "no thank you?" Ungrateful girl, I'll have none of your "thanks", thank you! And there's no pride in your "prouds!" Get your fine self ready to go with Spira to the Temple of the Emperor's Ascension this Thursday, or I'll drag you there strapped to the back of pack-slaves! Get out, you sickening child! Out, you leech! You coward!

**Lady Catalene**: Shame! Shame! What, have you gone mad?

**Joliette**: Good father, I beg you on my knees, have patience so I may say a single word!

**Catalene**: Be hanged, you vixen, you disobedient wretch! I'll tell you what, get yourself to church on Thursday, or never look on my face again! Don't say anything! Don't talk! Do not answer me! My fingers itch! Wife, we used to think we were blessed that the Emperor gave us this only child, but now I see that she is one too many, and we were cursed by having her! Emperor take her back, the worthless girl!

**Nurse**: Golden Throne! You're to blame, my lord, for yelling at her like this!

**Catalene**: And why did I, Lady Know-it-all? Hold your tongue, Big Mouth! Go and gossip with your cronies.

**Nurse**: I'm not saying anything that isn't true.

**Catalene**: Emperor! Good night!

**Nurse**: Can't I speak?

**Catalene**: Quiet, you mumbling fool! Save your preaching for your gossip's luncheons, we don't need any of that here!

**Lady Catalene**: You're much too angry.

**Catalene**: Emperor's holy beard, this makes me angry! Day, night, working, resting, alone or in company, it's been my one desire to find her a husband! And now I've found one of noble birth, with good looks, young and well-mannered. He's filled to bursting with fine parts, and as well-built as anyone could wish for in a man. And then to have this wretched, vomitous fool, this whining baby, in the moment that fortune smiles on her, say "I don't want to get married, I don't love him, I'm too young, please excuse me." But, if you do not wed, I will excuse you. Go where you want, you won't be living with me. Think this over. Give it a good look. I'm not known for my sense of humor. Thursday is close. I swear to you. Consider this. If you're my daughter, I'll give you to my friend. If you are not, be hanged! Beg! Starve! Die in the streets! On my soul, I'll never acknowledge you, and what is mine will never help you. Trust me on this, and consider well. I will not be forsworn.

_(Catalene leaves)_

**Joliette**: Does the Emperor have no pity for me in the depths of my grief? Dearest mother, don't cast me out! Postpone this marriage for a month, or a week, or if you don't, make the bridal bed next to Tybelle.

**Lady Catalene**: Don't talk to me. I'm not speaking on your behalf. Do what you will, for I am done with you.

_(Lady Catalene leaves)_

**Joliette**: Throne Above! O Nurse! How can this be stopped? My husband is here, my faith is in heaven. How can I get my faith back unless my husband sends it back to me from heaven by leaving this earth? Comfort me! Advise me! Alas, alas, that the Throne should practice tricks upon a person as weak as I am! What do you say? Don't you have anything that can cheer me up? Some comfort, Nurse?

**Nurse**: Indeed, and here it is. Rovero is banished, and it's a safe bet that he dares not come back to claim you as his. Or if it he does, it will need to be done quietly. Since this is the way things are, I think it would be best for you to marry Count Spira. He's a lovely man. Rovero's a dishcloth compared to him. The finest emeralds cannot compare with Spira's eyes. Damn my heart, but I think you would be happy with this second match, since it's better than your first. And if it isn't, well, your first husband is dead, or as good as since he's alive and you have no contact with him.

**Joliette**: Do you speak from the heart?

**Nurse**: And my soul, or curse them both.

**Joliette**: Well said!

**Nurse**: What?

**Joliette**: Well, you have been very helpful. Go and tell my mother that, since I have displeased my father, I have gone to Father Laurel's shrine to make confession and be absolved.

**Nurse**: Oh, I will! This is very wise!

_(Nurse leaves)_

**Joliette**: Wicked old woman! Cursed fiend! What is more sinful, to advise me to break my wedding vows, or to slander my husband with the same tongue that once praised him above all compare so many times? Go, my adviser. You and my heart are split apart forever. I'll go to Father Laurel and hear his advice. If everything else fails, I still have the power to die.

_(Joliette leaves)_


	5. Chapter 5

Part 4 – The First Bit

_Father Laurel's shrine. **Father Laurel** and **Spira** enter._

**Father Laurel**: On Thursday, sir? That's not much time.

**Spira**: My future father-in-law Catalene wants it this way. I'm not inclined to slow him down.

**Father Laurel**: And you say you don't know the lady's wishes. This is very irregular. I don't like it.

**Spira**: She's crying excessively over Tybelle's death, so I haven't had a chance to talk with her about love, since tears and hearts don't mix very well. Now, her father thinks it's dangerous that she is so immersed in sorrow, and in his wisdom he is hastening our marriage to stop her over-flowing tears. She spends too much time alone with her grief, and some company may help cure her. Now you know why there's so much haste.

**Father Laurel**: If only I didn't know why it should be slowed down. Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my shrine.

_(**Joliette** enters)_

**Spira**: A happy meeting, my lady and my wife.

**Joliette**: That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.

**Spira**: That may be, must be, my love, this next Thursday.

**Joliette**: What must be, shall be.

**Father Laurel**: That's a true saying.

**Spira**: Have you come to make confession to this Father?

**Joliette**: If I answered that, I'd be confessing to you.

**Spira**: Don't deny to him that you love me.

**Joliette**: I will confess to you that I love him.

**Spira**: So will you, I'm sure, that you love me.

**Joliette**: If I do, it will be of more worth if I said it behind your back than to your face.

**Spira**: Poor soul, your face has been abused by so many tears.

**Joliette**: A small victory to my tears. It was bad enough before they got at it.

**Spira**: You do yourself more wrong than your tears, with those words.

**Joliette**: There is no slander, sir, in telling the truth. And what I said, I said to my face.

**Spira**: Your face is mine, and you have slandered it.

**Joliette**: That may be so, for it is not my own. Do you have time for me now, Father, or should I come see you at the evening service?

**Father Laurel**: I have time now, my sad girl. My lord, we must have some time alone.

**Spira**: Emperor forbid that I should interrupt religious rites. Joliette, I'll wake you early on Thursday morning. Until then, farewell, and accept this holy kiss.

_(Spira leaves)_

**Joliette**: Oh, shut the door, and when you're done, come cry with me! Past hope, past care, past help!

**Father Laurel**: O Joliette, I already know about your grief. It's more than I can bear. I have heard that you are to be wed to the Count this Thursday, and that nothing can postpone it.

**Joliette**: Don't tell me, Father, that you've heard about this unless you can also tell me how to stop it. If you can't offer me any help, then tell me my intentions are sensible, and I'll use this knife to end things right away. The Emperor has joined my heart with Rovero, and you have bound our hands. Before these hands are joined again, or my treacherous heart turns to another, this knife shall kill them both. Please use your long experience to give me some advice! Or I will use this knife to end the argument between my situation and my life! This knife will make the decision that neither your wisdom nor your skill can devise. Answer me quickly. I want to die if you cannot give me some remedy.

**Father Laurel**: Hold on, my daughter! I can see a hope, but it is as desperate an action as the action we are desperate to avoid. If you would rather die than marry Count Spira, then it is likely that you would also rather appear to be dead to avoid this shame. You've already considered death itself to avoid it. If you dare to try, I have the way to do this.

**Joliette**: Instead of marrying Spira, ask me to leap from the top of the Spire, or walk naked through the underhive or hide where blindsnakes sleep. Chain me with raving mutants, or hide me in a mound of dead men's bones, rotting limbs, and lifeless skulls. Order me to enter a tomb and hide with a dead man inside his shroud. Any of those things would've made me tremble just to think about them, but I'd do them without fear or doubt in order to live as a faithful wife to my sweet love.

**Father Laurel**: Then wait. Go home, be cheerful and give your consent to marry Spira. Tomorrow is Wednesday. Make sure you are sleeping alone tomorrow night. Do not let your nurse sleep in your room. When you're ready for bed, take this bottle and drink the distilled liquor inside it. Soon after, a chill will run through your veins and you'll feel very drowsy, for your pulse will cease. No body heat, no breath will show you are still alive. The redness in your lips and your cheeks will fade to pale ashes, and your eyes will be as unseeing as if death had claimed you. Each part of you will appear stiff and cold as a corpse. And in this deathlike state, you'll exist for forty-two hours and then wake up, as if from a pleasant sleep. When the would-be groom comes in the morning to get you up, he will find you there. Dead. Then, since it is the custom here in Veranda, you'll be dressed in your best clothes and placed in an open coffin within the mausoleum of your Capulet ancestors. In the meantime, before your time to awaken comes, I'll let Rovero know of our plans and he'll come here. He and I will be there when you awake, and that same night Rovero will whisk you off to Downtwo-A. This will free you of this current trouble, so long as your resolve holds and your courage doesn't fail as you are doing it.

**Joliette**: Give it to me! Give it to me! Don't talk to me about failing courage!

**Father Laurel**: Take this, then. Return home now. Be strong and determined. I'll send one of my brothers to Downtwo-A with a message for your husband right away.

**Joliette**: Love, give me strength. Strength is what I need. Farewell, dear Father.

_(They leave)_

Part Four – The Second Bit

_Guilder Catalene's house. **Guilder Catalene**, **Lady Catalene**, **Nurse**, and a group of Servants enter._

**Catalene**: Send invitations to the people listed here.

_(A Servant leaves)_

And you, go and hire twenty of the best cooks.

**Servant**: You won't have any bad ones, sir, because I'll test to see if they will lick their fingers.

**Catalene**: What kind of test is that?

**Servant**: Well, sir, it's a poor cook that won't lick their own fingers. So anyone who won't, doesn't get the job.

**Catalene**: Go quickly now.

_(Servant leaves)_

We have so much to do in such little time. Has my daughter gone to see Father Laurel?

_Nurse_: She has.

_Catalene_: Well, maybe he will manage to do some good with her. A peevish, head-strong vixen she is.

_(Joliette enters)_

**Nurse**: She's returning from confession, and looks much happier.

**Catalene**: Well now, my stubborn child, where have you been off to?

**Joliette**: To where I've learned to repent my sin of disobedience to you and your demands. The holy Father Laurel advises me to bow at your feet and beg your forgiveness. Pardon me, I beg you. From now on, I will do whatever you say.

**Catalene**: Send for Count Spira! Give him this message! I'll have the marriage ceremony tomorrow morning!

**Joliette**: I met the young lord at Father Laurel's shrine and showed him what affection I could, without stepping outside the bounds of modesty.

**Catalene**: Well, I'm very pleased. This is well. Stand up. This is the way things should be. I must see the count, yes indeed. You, go and bring him here.

_(Another Servant leaves)_

By the Throne, all of our city is now much indebted to this reverend holy father.

**Joliette**: Nurse, will you come to my room with me, and help me sort out the things you think I may need for tomorrow?

**Lady Catalene**: No, not until Thursday. There's enough time.

**Catalene**: Go, Nurse. Go with her. We'll all go to the shrine tomorrow.

_(Joliette and Nurse leave)_

**Lady Catalene**: We won't have enough food. It's almost nighttime!

**Catalene**: Tush! I'll get everything in order. Everything will be fine, I assure you, my wife. Go to Joliette. Help her get her things ready. There's no bed for me tonight. I can do this. I'll be the housewife this one time. Hello? Anyone? They're all out on errands. Well, I will go to see Count Spira myself, to help him prepare for tomorrow. My heart is so happy, now that our wayward girl has come back to us!

_(They leave)_

Part Four – The Third Bit

_Joliette's room. **Joliette** and **Nurse** enter._

**Joliette**: Yes, these clothes are the best. But, gentle Nurse, please leave me to myself tonight. I will need many prayers to make the Throne smile upon me, for as you well know, I'm stubborn and full of sins.

_(**Lady Catalene** enters)_

**Lady Catalene**: Are you still busy? Do you need my help?

**Joliette**: No, mother. We've chosen the appropriate things for tomorrow's occasion. So please, let me be left alone now, and let Nurse stay up with you tonight, for I'm sure you have lots of last minute things to do, since this is happening so suddenly.

**Lady Catalene**: Good night. Go to bed and get some rest. You will need it.

_(Lady Catalene and Nurse leave)_

**Joliette**: Farewell. Emperor Above knows when we will meet again. I can feel the chill of fear running through my veins, almost enough to freeze me to death. I'll call them back to comfort me. Nurse! But what could she do? I have to do this dreadful thing on my own. Come, vial. What if this mixture doesn't work? Will I have to be married tomorrow, then? No, no. This will make sure that doesn't happen. _(She takes out her knife)_ You lie there. What if this is a poison the Father has slipped me, so that this marriage will not dishonor him, since he married me to Rovero? I'm afraid it is; but I don't think so. He's always proven himself to be a pious man. What if, after I'm laid in the tomb, I wake up before Rovero comes to rescue me? That's a frightening thought! Won't I suffocate in the vault, since it's sealed air-tight, and die gasping for air before Rovero arrives? And if I live, isn't it likely that thoughts of death and darkness, combined with the horror of that place, since it is a tomb, an ancient grave where, for many hundreds of generations, the bones of my ancestors have been stored, and where Tybelle currently lies, bloody and rotting in her shroud, and where they also say that late at night ghosts reside... Stop! Stop! Isn't it likely that I, waking up too early, with those loathsome smells and shrieks like tortured souls driving men mad...oh, if I wake, won't I go mad, closed up with all those hideous things, and play with my ancestors' skeletons like some mad woman? And pull the mangled remains of Tybelle out of her shroud? And in this madness, would I use one of my noble ancestors' bones like a club to dash out my own brains? Oh look! I think I see my cousin's ghost, searching for Rovero, who impaled her body with the tip of his sword. Stop, Tybelle, stop! I'm coming, Rovero! I drink this for you!

_(She falls on her bed)_

Part Four – The Fourth Bit

_The hall in Catalene's manor. **Lady Catalene** and **Nurse** enter._

**Lady Catalene**: One second. Take these keys and get some more spices, Nurse.

**Nurse**: They want more dates and raisins in the pastry room.

_(Catalene enters)_

**Catalene**: Come on! Hurry! Hurry! It's three o'clock in the morning! Make sure there's plenty of cooked meats, good Angelica. Don't spare the cost!

**Nurse**: Go away, you housewife! Get to bed! Throne, you'll be sick tomorrow from lack of sleep!

**Catalene**: No, I'll be fine. I've stayed awake all night before and for far less important reasons, and never been sick.

**Lady Catalene**: Yes, when you were younger and chasing after women! But I'm here to make sure you don't do that any more.

_(Lady Catalene and Nurse exit)_

**Catalene**: She's so jealous! So jealous!

_(Four servants enter, carrying trays of meat, casks, and baskets)_

What's all this?

**First Servant**: Things for the cooks, sir, but I don't know what they are.

**Catalene**: Then go quickly! Quickly!

_(First Servant exits)_

Fetch more casks! Call Preet. He'll show you where to find them.

**Second Servant**: I get gut feelings when it comes to finding casks, sir. There's no need to bother Preet.

**Catalene**: Well said! You're a funny fellow. We'll call you "Beergut!"

_(Second Servant exits)_

By the Throne! It's almost morning! The Count will be here with the musicians soon. He said he would be here early. I think I can hear him approaching! Nurse! Wife! Hello? Nurse, where are you?

_(Nurse enters)_

Go wake up Joliette. Get her up and dressed. I'll go and chat with Spira. Quickly now, quickly! The bridegroom is here already. Go quickly, I say!

_(They all leave)_

Part Four – The Fifth Bit

_Joliette's bedroom. **Nurse** enters._

**Nurse**: Mistress! Mistress! Joliette! I'll bet she's fast asleep. Come now, girl, come now my lady! Up, lazybones! Up, love! Madam! Sweetheart! Up, bride! What, not even stirring? Get your money's worth now, sleep for a week. I'll bet Count Spira has planned out his sleep so you won't get any at all tomorrow night! Emperor forgive me! Enough of that. She is still sound asleep, but I have to wake her up. Madam! Madam! Madam! Yes, let the Count catch you in bed, that'll frighten you awake, indeed! Won't you wake up? What, did you get up, dress, and go back to sleep? I have to wake you up now. Lady! Lady! Lady! Oh no. No! Help! Help! My lady's dead! Oh, curse the day I was ever born! There's some liquor, there! My lord! My lady!

_(Enter **Lady Catalene**)_

**Lady Catalene**: What's all this noise?

**Nurse**: Oh sorrowful day!

**Lady Catalene**: What's the matter?

**Nurse**: Look! Look! Oh tragic day!

**Lady Catalene**: Oh no. Oh no! My child, my only child! Wake up! Look at me, or I will die here with you! Help! Help! Call for help!

_(Catalene enters)_

**Catalene**: Shame on you. Bring Joliette down. Her future husband is here.

**Nurse**: She's dead! Dead and gone! She's dead! Curse the day!

**Catalene**: What? Let me see her. No. She's cold. Her blood has settled and her limbs are stiff. Life has long passed from her lips. Death has come and plucked the sweetest flower from the garden.

**Nurse**: O sorrowful day!

**Catalene**: Death has taken her to make me wail, but has tied up my tongue so I cannot speak.

_(**Father Laurel**, **Spira** and some musicians enter)_

**Father Laurel**: It's is time. Is the bride ready to go to the temple?

**Catalene**: She's ready to go, but she'll never come back. Son, on the eve of your wedding day, death has taken your wife. Here she lies, a flower of life, deflowered by him. Death is my son-in-law. Death is my heir. He has married my daughter. I will die, and leave him everything. Life, living, it's all Death's now.

**Spira**: Have I looked so forward to this day, only to see it turn out like this?

**Catalene**: Cursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful day! The most miserable hour that has ever existed since the dawn of time! My only child, one poor and loving child, my one thing to rejoice and delight in, and cruel Death has taken her from my sight.

**Nurse**: Misery! Oh woeful, woeful, woeful day! Most sorrowful day! Most woeful day that I have ever, ever known! Oh day, oh day, oh day, oh hateful day! There has never been a day as black as this! Oh dreary, woeful day!

**Spira**: Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain! Deceived by most foul Death. Overthrown by Death in all it's cruelty! My love, my life! Not living, but still loved even in death.

**Catalene**: Despised, distressed, hated, martyred, killed! Merciless time, why did you chose now to murder, murder our celebration? Oh child! Oh child! My soul and not my child! But you are dead. Alas, my child is dead, and with my child all my happiness is gone as well.

**Father Laurel**: Quite, everyone! For shame! The cure for sorrow is not with all this weeping. The Throne and yourselves had shares in this lovely girl. Now the Throne has all, and it's all the better for this girl. Your shares in her you could not protect from Death, but the Emperor keeps his shares in eternal life. You sought only to make her a good match, it would have been your heaven to see her well married. And now you weep, seeing she has been brought up above the clouds, to the very Throne itself? With this love, do you love your child so little that you are crazed knowing that she is so fortunate? Not all long marriages are happy marriages. Those who die in the early days are the best married. Dry your tears. Put funeral flowers on her beautiful corpse as is our custom. Dress her in her finest clothes and bring her to the temple. Our emotions make us cry, but reason laughs at our tears.

**Catalene**: Everything we ordered for the celebration must be turned black for the funeral. Our music shall be mourning bells, our wedding banquet a funeral feast, our wedding songs turn to funeral dirges, the bridal flowers to wreaths. Change everything into it's opposite.

**Father Laurel**: Sir, go now, and madam go with him. You should go as well, Count Spira. Let everyone get ready to follow this lovely corpse to her grave. The Throne has frowned upon you for some wrong you've done, let's not tempt it to further anger.

_(All but the Nurse and the Musicians leave, placing flowers upon Joliette and closing her bed curtains)_

**First Musician**: Well, we may as well pack up our instruments and go now.

**Nurse**: Yes, good fellows. Pack up, pack up. You know well that this is a sorrowful case.

**First Musician**: Yes indeed, this case does need mending.

_(Nurse leaves)_

_(**Preet** enters)_

**Preet**: Oh, musicians! Could you play "Heart's Ease?" "Heart's Ease!" If you want me to keep living, play "Heart's Ease."

**First Musician**: Why "Heart's Ease?"

**Preet**: Oh, musicians. Because my own heart is playing "My Heart is Full." Oh play me some cheerful dirge to comfort me.

**First Musician**: You won't get a dirge from us. This isn't a time to be playing.

**Preet**: You won't, then?

**First Musician**: No.

**Preet**: Then I will give it to you soundly!

**First Musician**: What will you give us?

**Preet**: Not money, that's for sure! I'll take your measure! I'll give you the minstrel! _(A rude gesture)_

**First Musician**: Then I will give you the serving boy! _(Another rude gesture)_

**Preet**: Then I'll take the serving boy's dagger and whack you on the head! I won't carry your tune! I'll "re" you! I'll "fa" you! Do you note what I mean?

**First Musician**: If you "re" us and "fa" us, then you're noting us instead.

**Second Musician**: Please, put away your dagger and take out your wits!

**Preet**: Then I'll have at you with my wit! I'll drum beat you with my iron wit, and put away my iron dagger. Answer me this: "When gripping grief the heart does wound/And doleful dumps the mind oppress/Then music with her silver sound-" Why silver sound? Why is it "music with her silver sound?" What do you say, Mr. Musicman?

**First Musician**: Well, sir, because "silver" has a sweet sound.

**Preet**: Clever. What do you say, Sir Playsalot?

**Second Musician**: I think it's "silver sound" because musicians play for money.

**Preet**: Not bad. And what about you, Buster Noteworthy?

**Third Musician**: Honestly, I don't know what to say.

**Preet**: Oh, I beg your pardon. You must be the singer. Well, I'll tell you. It's "music with her silver sound" because musicians have no gold to make music with. "Then music with her silver sound/With speedy help does lend redress."

_(Preet leaves)_

**First Musician**: What a rotten old man he is.

**Second Musician**: Forget him, Jack. Come on, we'll go in here, blend in with the mourners and stay for dinner.

_(They all leave)_


	6. Chapter 6

Part Five – The First Bit

_A street in Downtwo-A. Rovero enters. _

**Rovero**: If I can believe my pleasant dreams, then good news is on it's way. My heart is filled with love, and all day I've felt unusually cheerful. I dreamt my lady came and found me dead; it's an odd dream that allows dead men to think; and she gave me such a kiss that I was brought back to life and became an emperor. Ah, how sweet true love is when just the thought of it can bring such happiness!

_(**Belthar** enters, one of Rovero's aides)_

News from Veranda! Hello, Belthar! You've brought me letters from Father Laurel? How is my wife? Is my father well? How is my Joliette? I ask about her twice, since nothing can be wrong as long as she is well.

**Belthar**: Then she is well and nothing can be wrong. Her body sleeps in Catalene's family tomb, and her soul is with the Emperor. I saw her placed in the family vault, and came straight here to tell you. Forgive me for bringing you this bad news, but you did tell me to keep you informed.

**Rovero**: Is this true? Then I defy the stars! You know where I'm staying. Get me pen and paper, and arrange transportation. I'll leave tonight.

**Belthar**: I beg you, sir, to have patience. You look pale and distraught. A sure sign of some coming misfortune.

**Rovero**: Pah, you're eyes are deceived. Leave me, and do what I've asked. Do you have any messages for me from Father Laurel?

**Belthar**: No, sir.

**Rovero**: It doesn't matter. Go quickly and arrange the transportation. I'll join you soon.

_(Belthar leaves)_

Well, Joliette, I will lie with you tonight. But how to do it. Mischief quickly enters the minds of desperate men. I remember seeing an apothecary around here. I noticed him recently, dressed in tattered clothes, with wild eyebrows, scrounging about for molds and fungus. He looked worn down, crushed beneath poverty. His shabby shop had a millisaur shell, a stuffed blindsnake, and the skins of various rats and bats. His shelves were mostly empty, with only a scattering of empty boxes and bottles, some string, a few dried mushroom stalks, and some scented blocks. Noting his poverty, I thought "If anyone ever needed a poison, which carries a death sentence here in Downtwo-A, surely this wretch is desperate enough to sell them one." That very thought foreshadowed my need, and this needy man shall sell it to me. If I remember correctly, this is his shop, and he lives in the back. But it's closed. Hello there? Apothecary!

_(The **Apothecary** enters)_

**Apothecary**: Who's shouting out here?

**Rovero**: Come here, man. I see you are poor. Look, here's forty credits. Let me have a flask of poison, some quick-acting stuff that will spread through every vein, so that those weary of life will fall dead, their breath leaving as quickly as gunpowder exploding from a shell.

**Apothecary**: I have such lethal drugs, but it is a death sentence for anyone in Downtwo-A to sell them.

**Rovero**: Can you be so downtrodden and miserable, and still be afraid of death? Your cheeks are sunken, and your eyes are filled with hunger. You are obviously destitute. Hive Primus is no friend to you, nor are it's laws. The nobles give you no way to be rich. So don't be poor. Break the law and take this.

**Apothecary**: My poverty, not my conscience, will accept this.

**Rovero**: It's your poverty that I'm paying.

**Apothecary**: Put this in any liquid that you want. Drink it down and, even if you had the strength of twenty men, it will take your life immediately.

**Rovero**: Here is your money. A loathsome poison for human souls, it has caused far more death in this world than these little vials you are forbidden to sell. I'll selling you a poison, you haven't sold me any. Now farewell. Buy some food and put some flesh on those bones. Medicine, not poison, come with me to Joliette's grave, for I will use you there.

_(They leave)_

Part Five – The Second Bit

_Father Laurel's shrine. **Father Jon** enters._

**Father Jon:** Emperor's holy monk! Brother! Hello!

_(**Father Laurel** enters)_

**Father Laurel**: That sounds lake Brother Jon's voice. Welcome back from Downtwo-A. What did Rovero say? Or did he write it down? Let me have his letter.

**Father Jon**: I went looking for another Brother to go with me. He was visiting the sick. After I found him, health officers, who thought we were in a house infected by a plague, sealed us in and wouldn't let us out. I never left for Downtwo-A.

**Father Laurel**: Who took my letter to Rovero, then?

**Father Jon**: I couldn't send it. Here, have it back. I tried to get a messenger to deliver it for you, but they were too afraid of becoming infected.

**Father Laurel**: What terrible luck! By my holy order, this wasn't a simple comforting letter, it was full of important news and information. Failing to deliver it could have dire consequences. Father Jon, go quickly. Get me an iron crowbar, and bring it to my chamber immediately.

**Father Jon**: Of course, Brother. I'll go and get you one.

_(Father Jon leaves)_

**Father Laurel**: I must go to the tomb alone. Within the next three hours, young Joliette will wake up. She'll berate me terribly when she finds out Rovero hasn't been informed of these developments. I'll send another letter to Downtwo-A, and hide her in my chambers until Rovero arrives. Poor living corpse, shut up in that dead man's tomb!

_(Father Laurel leaves)_

Part Five – The Third Bit

_The Catalene Vault. **Spira** and his assistant **Aiphul** enter. _

**Spira**: Give me the lantern, Aiphul, then go and stand watch. Actually, put it out. I don't want to be seen. Go and lay down by the gates over there. Keep your ear to the ground, so you can hear any footsteps coming this way. Let me know if anyone approaches. Here, give me the flowers. Go quickly now.

**Aiphul**: I'm almost afraid to be alone here in these dark vaults, but I'll do it.

_(Aiphul moves off to keep watch)_

**Spira**: Sweet flower, with these flowers I'll decorate your bridal bed. This is too horrible! Your canopy is dust and steel. I'll sprinkle them with perfumed water every night, and if I can't, I'll use my tears. I will observe my mourning for you with nightly gifts of flowers and weeping.

_(Aiphul whistles)_

Aiphul is warning me that someone is coming. Whose accursed feet wander this way at night, interrupting my mourning and the rites of true love? Plus, they're carrying a lantern? Darkness, hide me for awhile.

_(Spira moves off into the shadows)_

_(**Rovero** and **Belthar** enter, carrying a lantern, a hammer, and a crowbar)_

**Rovero**: Give me the hammer and the crowbar. Wait, take this letter. You must deliver it to my father early this morning. Hand me the lantern. Stand off and do not interrupt me, no matter what you may see or hear, on pain of death. I've come into these vaults in part to see my dead love's face, but I must also remove a ring from her finger that I need to use for a personal matter. So go away! If you are too curious and return to spy on me in order to see what else I intend to do, then know this. I swear on the Throne that I will tear you limb from limb and scatter your parts across these corpse-consuming vaults! The time, and my intentions, are savage, wild, fiercer and far more ruthless than hungry millisaurs or the roaring toxic dust clouds!

**Belthar**: I'll move off and not bother you, sir!

**Rovero**: That is how you will show me your friendship. Here, take this. Live and be prosperous. Farewell, good friend.

**Belthar**: All the same, I'll hide nearby. I don't like the way he looks, and I'm afraid of his intentions.

_(Belthar hides in a different part of the vaults)_

**Rovero**: You disgusting maw, you swollen belly of death! Gorged on the dearest morsel of this world. And so I pry open your rotten jaws, and with scorn I'll cram more food down your throat.

_(Rovero forces open the tomb)_

**Spira**: This is that banished, arrogant Murgata who murdered my love's cousin. It is believed that the grief of that murder caused her death. He's obviously come here to desecrate their bodies. I'll apprehend him. Stop this accursed work, vile Murgata! Can vengeance be pursued beyond death? Condemned criminal, I arrest you in the name of the Guilder Prince! Do as I say, and come with me, for you must die!

**Rovero**: I must indeed, and that is why I'm here. My dear boy, do not provoke desperate men. Run away and leave me alone. Think about these who have gone before, and let them frighten you. I beg you, boy, to not put more sins on my head by driving me to anger. Go away! Throne Above, I love you more than I love myself, for I have come here equipped to harm myself. Begone. Go, live, and in the future remember that it was a madman's mercy that told you to flee.

**Spira**: I reject your attempts to frighten me! I'm arresting you here and now, felon!

**Rovero**: You insist on provoking me? Then we'll fight, boy!

_(They fight. Spira draws his sword, Rovero uses his hammer and crowbar)_

**Aiphul**: They're fighting! Emperor on high! I'll get the Arbites!

_(Aiphul leaves)_

**Spira**: Ah, I am killed! If you have any mercy, open the tomb and lay me beside Joliette.

_(Spira dies)_

**Rovero**: Indeed, I will. Let me see who this is. Mercatian's relative, Count Spira! What did Belthar say on our way here? My mind was elsewhere. I think he said that Spira was supposed to marry Joliette. Was that it? Or did I dream it? Or did I go crazy, when I heard him speak about Joliette, and think that that was it? Give me your hand, for, like me, your name is written in the books of misfortune. I'll bury you in a hero's grave. A grave? Oh no, a palace, slaughtered youth. Joliette is here, and her beauty makes this place a feasting hall, full of light. Death, lie there. Buried by a dead man. How often, when they are about to die, have men found joy? The jailers call this a "lightening." But how can I call this a lightening? Oh my love, my wife, Death may have sucked the sweetness from your breath, but he has not managed to touch your beauty. You haven't been conquered yet. Beauty still lives in your crimson lips and rosy cheeks. Death hasn't taken them yet. Tybelle, is that you there under that bloody shroud? What more can I do for you, than with the hand that took your life, end the life of the one who killed you? Forgive me, my friend. Ah, dear Joliette. Why are you still so beautiful? Should I believe that Death loves you, and that that horrid monster is keeping you here in the dark to be his mistress? Out of fear for that, I will stay here with you forever, and never leave this dark place again. Here, here I will stay, with the worms that are your chamber maids. Here I will set up my eternal rest, and remove the curse of the misfortunate stars that afflicts my tired flesh. Eyes, see for the last time. Arms, enjoy one last embrace. And lips, the gateway of breath, seal with a kiss an everlasting bargain with Death. Come, bitter conduit, unsavory gateway, you desperate pilot, take your weary shuttle craft and plow it into the mountains. Here's to my love! (He drinks) Oh, honest apothecary, your drugs are fast. With one last kiss, I die.

_(Rovero dies. **Father Laurel** enters with a lantern, a prybar and a crowbar)_

**Father Laurel**: Emperor guide my steps! How often have my old feet stumbled on the way here? Who's there?

**Belthar**: I'm here. A friend, and someone who knows you well.

**Father Laurel**: Emperor watch over you. Tell me, my friend, whose lantern is over there, wasting it's light on grave worms and empty skulls? If I'm right, it's inside the Catalene's vault.

**Belthar**: It is, good Father. And my master is there, someone you love.

**Father Laurel**: And who is that?

**Belthar**: Rovero.

**Father Laurel**: How long has he been in there?

**Belthar**: At least half an hour.

**Father Laurel**: Come to the vault with me.

**Belthar**: I cannot, sir. He thinks I've gone, and he threatened me with a most gruesome death if I stayed to watch what he was doing.

**Father Laurel**: Stay here then. I'll go in alone. I shouldn't be afraid, but I believe something unfortunate has happened.

**Belthar**: As I hid over here, I must have dozed off. I dreamed Rovero and someone else had a fight, and that Rovero killed him.

**Father Laurel**: Rovero!

_(Father Laurel stoops, and examines the blood and the bloody weapons)_

Oh no! Whose blood is this, staining the entrance to this vault? Why are there abandoned and bloodstained weapons lying near this place of peace? Rovero! Why are you so pale? Who is this? Spira too? And all covered in blood! What evil hour is responsible for this terrible encounter? The lady awakens.

_(**Joliette** wakes up)_

**Joliette**: Oh, comforting Father, where is my husband? I remember where I should be, and here I am. But where is Rovero?

**Father Laurel**: I hear some noise. Lady, leave this place of death, disease, and eternal slumber. The Emperor himself has thwarted our plans. Come, come away. Your husband lies dead here next to you, and Spira too. Come, and I'll arrange for you to live with the Adeptus Sororitas. Don't argue, the Arbites are coming. Come with me, good Joliette. We can't stay here any longer.

**Joliette**: Get yourself away then, for I will not leave.

_(Father Laurel leaves)_

What's this? My love holds onto a bottle. I see, poison has done this to him. How cruel! He drank it all, and left nothing to help me follow him. I'll kiss your lips. Maybe some poison remains on them, so that I may die with the cure. _(She kisses him) _ Your lips are warm!

**Judge (offstage):** Lead the way, boy. Which way?

**Joliette**: Someone's coming? Then I'll be quick. Rovero's dagger! My heart is now your sheath. Rust there, and let me die.

_(Joliette stabs herself and dies)_

_(**Aiphul** and a patrol of **Adeptus Arbites** enter)_

**Aiphul**: This is the place. Over there, where the lantern is shining.

**First Judge**: The ground here is bloody. Search the area. Some of you, check outside the gates. If you find anyone, arrest them.

_(Several Arbites leave)_

A pitiful sight! Count Spira is here, dead. And Joliette is bleeding, warm like the newly dead, although she's been buried here for the past two days. Go and fetch the Guilder Prince. Run to the Catalenes. Go wake up the Murgatas. The rest of you, keep searching.

_(More Judges leave)_

We see where the bodies lie, but without some more evidence, we won't know how this came to be.

_(A couple **Judges** enter with **Belthar**)_

**Second Judge**: Here's one of Rovero's friends. We found him hiding nearby.

**First Judge**: Keep a hold of him until the Guilder Prince arrives.

_(Another **Judge** enters with **Father Laurel**)_

**Third Judge**: We found this priest trembling and weeping as he was trying to leave the vaults. He had this prybar and crowbar with him.

**First Judge**: Very suspicious! Detain him as well. Keep him away from the other one.

_(The Guilder Prince arrives with some assistants)_

**Engardus**: What's happened that's so important you had to get us out of bed so early?

_(Catalene and Lady Catalene enter with some of their Van Saars)_

**Catalene**: What is everyone shouting about?

**Lady Catalene**: I heard some people shouting "Rovero", and some "Joliette" and a couple shouting "Spira." They're all weeping and running towards the vaults.

**Engardus**: What are you afraid to tell us?

**First Judge**: My Prince, Count Spira is here, slain. Rovero is dead as well. And Joliette, who was dead, is now warm and freshly dead again.

**Engardus**: I demand a full investigation into how this foul murder came about!

**First Judge**: We found this priest and one of Rovero's friends nearby. Both of them had tools on them to force open tombs like these.

**Catalene**: Throne Above! Oh, my wife! Our daughter is bleeding! This dagger has gone astray. It should be in that Murgata's back, not in my daughter's chest.

**Lady Catalene**: Emperor Above! Seeing death like this warns me that my own time is not far off.

_(**Murgata** enters)_

**Engardus**: Come, Murgata, you are up early so that you may see that your son and heir has gone down early.

**Murgata**: Alas, my prince, my wife has also died tonight. Her grief at our son's exile has broken her heart. What further grief is trying to send me to my own grave?

**Engardus**: See for yourself.

**Murgata**: You rude boy! What bad manners you have, to beat your father into the grave!

**Engardus**: Control your grief for now. We need to clear this matter up, and discover how this all has come to pass. Then I will lead you all in mourning, maybe even to death. Meanwhile, resist and be patient. Bring me the suspicious parties.

**Father Laurel**: I am the oldest and the least capable, but the most suspected, since this time and place work against me, of this dreadful murder. And so I am here to condemn and excuse myself.

**Engardus**: Tell us at once what you know of this.

**Father Laurel**: I will be brief, since I will not live long enough to tell the entire story. Rovero, who lies dead here, was the husband of Joliette. She, also dead, was the faithful wife of Rovero. I married them in secret on the same day that Tybelle was slain. Her untimely death led to the newlywed groom being banished from the city. It was for him, not Tybelle, that Joliette mourned. You would have married her to Count Spira by force in order to end her grief. She came to me and begged me to devise some way to save her from this second marriage, or she would kill herself in my shrine. So I gave her a sleeping potion that I had learned how to create. It produced the expected effect: it gave her the appearance of death. Meanwhile, I wrote to Rovero, telling him to come here tonight and take her from this temporary grave once the potion had worn off. But Father Jon, who was bearing the letter for me, was accidentally delayed and gave me the letter back last night. And so I came here alone to be here when she awakened. I had planned to rescue her from her family vault and hide her at my shrine until I could send another message to Rovero. But when I arrived, a few minutes before I thought she would awaken, I found the noble Spira and faithful Rovero already dead. She awoke soon after, and I begged her to come with me. But a noise scared me away from the vaults, and she was too overcome with grief to come with me. It appears that she committed suicide. This is all I know. Her nurse also knows about the marriage. If anything in all this happened through some fault of mine, let my life be taken before it's time by the severest rigors of the law.

**Engardus**: We've always known you to be a pious man. Where's Rovero's friend? What can he add to this tale?

**Belthar**: I took the news of Joliette's death to Rovero. He then rushed back from Downtwo-A and came straight to this tomb. He told me to give this letter to his father as soon as possible, and as he went into the tomb, he threatened me with a horrible death if I didn't leave at once.

**Engardus**: Give me this letter. I'll read it. Where is the count's assistant? The one who called the Judges? Why was the count here in this place?

**Aiphul**: He came with flowers to scatter on the lady's grave. He told me to keep my distance, so I did. Soon after, someone came with a lantern to open the tomb. The count drew his sword, and I ran to get the Arbites.

**Engardus**: This letter supports the Father's story. How they met, fell in love and were married, and also the news of her death. He writes that he purchased the poison from a destitute apothecary and brought it with him to this vault, so that he may die and lie with Joliette. Where are the two enemies, Catalene and Murgata? See how your old hate is punished? The Emperor found a way to kill your children through love. And I have lost two relatives by turning a blind eye to your quarreling. We are all punished.

**Catalene**: Murgata, my brother, shake my hand. This is my daughter's wedding gift from you, I can ask no more.

**Murgata**: I can give you more. I will have a statue of her made of solid gold, so that as long as Veranda lasts, no one will ever surpass in value or reputation the true and faithful Joliette.

**Catalene**: And I will make one of Rovero to place by his wife's side. They are the unfortunate victims of our old enmity.

**Engardus**: The morning has brought with it a melancholy peace. The sun, in it's own sorrow, will not show it's face today. Go now, and talk of these sad events. Some will be pardoned. Some will be punished. There was never a more tragic story than this one about Joliette and her Rovero.

_(They all leave)_


End file.
